


A Lesson in Patience: Book Five

by Shaymed



Series: A Lesson in Patience [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-13 18:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 50
Words: 187,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: When Argus shows up in the sky over Azeroth, the team is tasked with helping to stop the Legion.
Series: A Lesson in Patience [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1034279
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Alisbeth shifts to glance at the bay doors where evidence of morning is brightening the land. She sighs at another sleepless night, then curls back into the demon hunter’s embrace. She bites her lip and smiles, watching his face, enjoying how calm he looks when he’s dreaming.

Grimory groans in his sleep. A sharp and urgent knock rings through the room and the demon hunter jerks awake with a start. His slit pupils dilate to thin lines and he quickly throws his hands over his clenched eyes. He rubs at them before glancing over at Alisbeth, then gives a smile as though still dreaming. The second knock sends him back into reality and he groans, throws his feet over the side of the bed, and grabs a quilt from the end of the bed to tie at his waist.

“Silversong,” Arille says impatiently as the door opens. “You’re needed in the Nether. Urgent business.”

“What kind of urgent business?” Grimory grumbles while running a hand through his messy hair.

“Step outside and see for yourself,” Arille responds as he heads back down the stairs. “And put some fucking clothes on when you answer the door.”

The Illidari inhales long and loudly through his nostrils and he closes the door. “I gotta go,” he says quietly and tosses the quilt aside to rummage for his pants. “I’m sorry.”

Alisbeth frowns at the blanket over her. “Oh. Um, what does he mean by looking outside?” She sits up and wraps the blanket under her arms, dragging it with her to the bay doors. She throws them open and first notices the people looking up into the sky. Then she turns to look where they’re pointing. There, behind the citadel, is a planet—black with a green and yellow scar down the face, teal clouds sweep over it, while the whole sphere is protected by a fel green atmosphere that seems to be exploding and seeping out into the sky. The death knight gasps and runs back inside. “You need to go. Now!”

Grimory’s ears perk. “Hm? Why?” He gently pushes past her to step out onto the balcony. His verdant eyes widen at the sight above. “Argus,” he says on a breath and shakes his head. He sweeps back inside and scoops up his belt to fasten. He makes for the balcony again, but pauses halfway, turns, and comes back to Alisbeth. An arm around her waist, he pulls her to him to push a kiss into her lips. “Be safe, yeah? I’ll be back.” Without waiting for a response, he steps back outside and leaps into the air with wings spread.

~ * ~

A soft knock wakes Taveth. He mumbles and rolls out of bed and opens the door in only his pajama pants, an arm over his torso as though he can hide himself behind it. “Yeah?”

A worgen, eyes wide with fright, glances at the sky, then back at Taveth. She holds up a scroll for him, then stares up at the sky again. “Do… Do you know if the world is ending?”

Taveth raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Y-you know everything, they say. Are we doomed?” She points at the sky.

Taveth steps out to see past the awning. His eyes round at the sight of the planet. Feverishly, he breaks the familiar seal and opens the scroll. “I knew it. It’s Argus.” He sets a hand on her forearm and she looks down into his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” He goes back into the room to dress, then throws Diori’s belongings into her trunk. Gently, he wakes the sleeping figure. “Hey, wake up sleepy-head.”

Diori groans and gently pushes at his hand before rolling the other way. “Just a bit longer…”

Taveth throws the blanket from the girl and lifts her onto his shoulder. “Nope. Now. Sorry, kiddo, but there’s something happening, and I’ve got my orders.” He grabs the handle on the side of her trunk and starts dragging it, his brow furrowing with the strain of dealing with both.

Diori groans again and tiredly swings her feet as she yawns. “Where are we going? Is something wrong?” she drones, eyes still closed.

“Yes,” he says, grunting as he forces the trunk through the doorway. He falls on his rear and loses his grip on the trunk. “You have to stay with father for a while. I’m sorry, you can’t come with me this time. And don’t you dare stow away again!”

The tone in his voice causes her to straighten and get to her feet. “I-I won’t…” She summons a small shadow fiend and it picks her luggage up in its gurgling jaws. She makes to say more, but notices the multiple patrons looking into the sky. Her eyes widen. Confusion and fear force tears to her eyes and she rubs at one to ensure she isn’t still asleep. “What is that? Is it bad?” She blindly grabs for Taveth’s sleeve when he nears. “Are we gonna be okay?”

Taveth wraps her in his arms. “Of course we are. I’m going up there to make sure of it. And I’m going to take cousin Ali and maybe Grim… Anyone I can find. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Azeroth.” He kisses her forehead and pulls her up in his arms, balancing her legs around his waist as he heads for the portal to Stormwind.

~ * ~

Anarchaia trots quickly after her teacher, struggling to keep up with his pace. “I should come with!” she cries, then flinches when he turns on a heel and thrusts a stack of parchment into her arms.

“No. You stay here and oversee,” Khadgar pushes a thick tome into her grasp as well, simultaneously fastening his scaled cloak about his shoulders. “I haven’t time to explain. Everything will be fine. I’ll send a letter.” He sets a hand on her head for a brief moment before turning and disappearing in a swirl of light.

The undead girl inhales to retort but he’s already gone. She grunts in aggravation and goes to her room to stow the paperwork. Afterward, she leaves the citadel with a sigh, avoiding looking up at the menacing orb in the sky. She makes her way to the lounge where she assumes Grimory and Alisbeth to be.

Taveth rushes into the inn, stuffing last-minute items into his satchel, his orders clutched in the fist wrapped around the strap over his shoulder. He collides against a figure and falls to the floor. “I’m s-so sorry, I’m just in a bit of an— Oh, Ana. Heh. Sorry. No time to talk, I have to get Ali.”

Anarchaia also hits the floor with a quiet _unf!_ “Hey. It’s all right. Going to Argus?” She pushes to her hands and knees. A paper with familiar handwriting catches her eye. She grabs it and cocks her head at the closing line. “Who’s your _friend_?” She stands and hands back the paper before it can be torn from her hands.

Taveth takes the paper and shoves it into his bag as though it had offended him. “No one. We have to hurry. Is Alisbeth awake? We need as many people up there as we can get.” He doesn’t wait for responses, just steps past her and grabs her hand, dragging her with him to the stairs.

Anarchaia nearly stumbles again as she’s pulled but rushes to fall in step with him. “She’s always awake, Tav. And I’ll assist you with finding as many as you need.”

Taveth laughs quietly. “Right. Doesn’t sleep. I knew that.” He tears up the stairs and knock on the door. “S-sorry, just…This is urgent. He doesn’t send me messages otherwise.”

Alisbeth pulls the door open, fully clothed in armor with the Redblade on her shoulder. “What are you doing here? I have to go. Something is—”

“It’s Argus,” Koltira says behind the other two. “I have orders to go there immediately.”

“Me too,” Taveth says.

Koltira gives the shorter man a look but says nothing. “I came to get you, Ali. Thassarian’s _secret_ orders. Don’t tell Khadgar or Mograine.”

Anarchaia’s brow furrows and she steps aside to let him pass. “For what reason can I not tell Master?”

Koltira flinches. “Something about letting her out in secret before and it was always a disaster and—”

“Letting me out?” Alisbeth furrows her brow as she locks the door.

“Oh… You’re still…” Koltira clears this throat. “Too much to explain. Come on.”

The mage bristles. “Alisbeth is in _my_ custody. If Mograine has a problem with where she is—which is none of his business—he can come find me, or suffer the consequences.”

Koltira blinks at Anarchaia, looking into where her eyes are for the first time since rushing up the stairs. “It’s for Thassarian’s protection. I know she’s your charge and you’re more than capable of making decisions regarding that, but it was just a suggestion. One I’m taking, regardless.” He swallows and runs his fingers along her arm. “Maybe you should come and…keep an eye on things?”

Taveth blinks at the two. “My orders come from much higher than any of that. Sorry. Ali is coming. So is Ana.”

The mage sobers at the suggestion and resists the urge to grasp his wandering hand in her own. “I can’t. Ali can go but I’m staying here.”

Taveth shakes his head. “No, Ana. Please. I need you.”

Koltira shifts awkwardly. “That was my line,” he mumbles.

Alisbeth rolls her eyes and shoves past. “Fine, she can stay. But we should probably get going.”

Anarchaia shrugs helplessly after watching Alisbeth trudge off. “Master’s orders.” She avoids looking either man in the eye though she knows they wouldn’t know if she did. “I can’t disobey. I’m sorry.”

Koltira presses the mage down the hall some and puts his large figure between her and the others. He frowns down at her. “Ana, please come. I’m…I’m sorry if you thought something was going on with Ali and me, but…” He brushes the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I miss you.”

She shrinks some and bites her lip, then brings a hand up to cover his. “N-no, _I’m_ sorry.” She sighs. “I was…rude. Immature. I…I shouldn’t have treated you that way.” She bites her lip again and groans. “I miss you, too, but I can’t. He’ll be furious…”

“Maybe we can find him once we get there and…apologize profusely for stealing the most talented mage in Dalaran to help save Azeroth?” He gives her a charming smile.

Her blush deepens and she fidgets, looking down at her hands as she toys with her fingers. “Master is already on the ship, actually. Heh.” She sobers and sighs, weighing her options. “All right…but only because _you_ asked.” She smiles up at him without lifting her head.

Koltira forces her chin up and plants a small kiss where he’s sure her lips are. “Thank you.”

“Are you done?” Alisbeth demands.

The mage jumps at Alisbeth’s authoritative tone, nearly having forgotten they were there. “Y-yeah. Heh.” She gives Koltira’s hand a quick squeeze before heading for the stairs.

Taveth leads them down the stairs, then sighs as he remembers. “You’ll have to meet me there.”

Koltira nods. “There’s a boat in Orgrimmar to Azuremyst Isle.”

The high elf nods. “Meet me at the Exodar.”

Anarchaia scrunches her face suspiciously as Taveth leaves. “The Exodar? Is that where everyone’s headed?” A piece of parchment appears within her hands and she attempts to write a well-worded letter while walking. “To Orgrimmar, then?”

“Yes,” Koltira says simply as he urges both women forward with a palm set to the smalls of their backs.

Alisbeth squirms at his touch, but says nothing.

They take the portal to Orgrimmar and walk through the city out to the bay, where a ship of blood elf make waits in the harbor. Alisbeth narrows her eyes at Lady Liadrin; the other woman does the same to Alisbeth.

“Liadrin,” Alisbeth says.

The paladin doesn’t address her. “Let’s see your orders,” she says. Koltira holds out her paper and she inspects it. “Make yourselves comfortable. It’s a good few hours to the Isle.” She checks the orders of a few more boarding parties, then whistles to get the full ship moving.

Anarchaia gives a curt nod of gratitude to the men guarding the boarding plank and makes her way on board. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve ridden a boat. Heh. Hopefully it’s not as nauseating when you’ve not eaten anything.”

A blood elf man motions to a door near the end of the deck. “Resting quarters below decks,” he says as though he’s said the same words countless times. “For your convenience.”

Koltira nods. “I think resting quarters sounds nice. Might help with sea sickness?”

Alisbeth turns from them. “I’m staying above deck.” She sits at the edge of the ship, her feet hanging off the side as she watches the water beat against the hull like fists begging to be let in.

The mage fidgets and flicks her attention between the two. “Eh. I’ll try my hand at _not_ being bent over the railing for now.” She chuckles, though the laugh fades into nothing. She swallows while looking at Alisbeth’s back. _What did I do, now?_

Koltira gives the mage a patient smile. “So, in or out?”

Anarchaia shrugs and steps over to the aforementioned bannister. “The sea air at this altitude is nice.” She pushes her hood back and smiles. “Better than Stormheim. Heh. I think I’ll enjoy it a bit.” She leans against the railing and looks down at Alisbeth a few feet away. “I take it you’ve been at sea before?”

Alisbeth smiles. “I went fishing with my father when I was ten. I tried to eat the worms. When he wouldn’t let me set the fish free I cried.” She smiles at the memory and breathes in the sea air. “You never realize how much you love the sea until you see it again, do you?” She turns her gentle smile up to the mage.

Anarchaia can’t help smiling in return. “I wasn’t allowed outside much. Especially during the day. I’ve only been this close to the sea a couple times, though I spent most of the time below decks to avoid the sun. The moon is so beautiful on the waves. I can’t say I love it, but yeah…it’s pretty great.” She chortles. “Do you still have a taste for nightcrawlers?”

Alisbeth laughs. “No, I stopped that when he actually let me eat one. It kept wiggling in my mouth and all the way down my throat.” She shakes in disgust at the memory. “That’s sad you stayed indoors. Unfair.”

Koltira stands back, saying nothing as he watches in a strange amazement at the two women getting along so well.

The mage shudders along with her and laughs. “It’s okay. I had a skin condition. I’d rather not be out in the sun than suffer the horrible burns it’d cause.” She sobers though her smile remains. “I escaped the house during the day, once. Blisters over most of my shoulders and face. Father was irate. That was enough to keep me inside from then on.”

Alisbeth gives her a sad smile. “It’s still not fair. Is that why you cover yourself now? To protect yourself from the sun?”

Anarchaia pauses and for a moment considers telling this new, level-headed Alisbeth the truth. She instead nods. “Yeah. It gets warm, but I’m used to it after forty years. Heh.” A particularly large wave crashes against the side of the ship and sprays water over the trio, the two at the edge getting the brunt of the mist.

Alisbeth wipes her face and tosses her damp hair over a shoulder. She laughs lightly. “You think she’s playing with us, or warning us?”

Koltira smirks. “I hope playing.”

The mage brings up her robes to wring them out—namely the hem. “Yeah, I changed my mind. I’m going down below lest I fall ill again.” She chuckles and turns for the large wooden doors leading to the lower decks. “Enjoy your new friend. Don’t eat any worms.”

Alisbeth laughs, then turns back to the sea, her smile fading into a frown. _Alone, again, Redblade._ She presses her hands to her ears and shakes her head as though refusing to believe she’s hearing the voice.


	2. Chapter 2

After hours of reading, wandering, and dry heaving into bins, Anarchaia is finally ushered up the stairs and back out into the fresh air. She groans and makes for the dock as quickly as she can with her dwindling sea legs. “If only I’d been here before,” she laments, leaning on a dock post for balance.

Taveth snaps his book closed and rushes to the mage. “Are you okay?”

“She’ll survive. Let’s go.” Alisbeth says as she sweeps past.

Koltira sets a tentative hand on Anarchaia’s back. “_Are_ you okay?”

Anarchaia closes her eyes and straightens. She clears her throat. “W-what she said.” She averts her gaze from the water between the planks below and on either side of her and makes for the end of the pier. “So, what are we here for?”

“Prophet Velen is sending us to the Vindicaar, which is hovering just above Azeroth. From there we’ll space jump to Argus. It’s simple, really.” Taveth smiles and hooks his arm through Anarchaia’s, partially to keep her distracted and moving.

The mage nearly stumbles. “S-space jump? Like in a ship?” She looks up into the sky between her current location and the looming planet above. “I never once in my life thought…”

Taveth’s smile widens as uncontained excitement fills his eyes. “I know!” he practically shouts.

Alisbeth’s mouth twists up at one corner, though she does her best to appear unfazed by the information.

They party enters at the archway into the broken Draenei ship. They make their way down a long corridor with a cracked and poorly-mended ramp into a massive room where a crowd has gathered around Velen.

“Ah. The next group of brave volunteers,” the Prophet muses through his long, flowing beard. “Any particular business that brings you?”

Taveth smiles up at the Prophet and holds out his scroll.

Velen’s eyebrows raise. “_You_…?” He stares at Taveth for a minute. “Come, the Beacon is ready. Right this way.” He guides them to a circular golden pad in the floor. “I will be right behind you, I just need to collect the last of the volunteers.”

Koltira narrows his eyes at the high elf as Velen walks to the next group. “That was suspicious. What are your orders?”

Taveth shrugs. “Study. Take notes. Report. The usual. Ready?” He motions at the beacon.

Anarchaia hesitates as she looks over the platform and the glowing white light that it seems to emit. “Report to whom?” she says instead of commenting on the apprehension in her chest.

“Who cares?” Alisbeth says before Taveth can. She takes the mage by the elbow and steers her closer.

Koltira takes the mage’s hand and Alisbeth releases her. He smiles down at the undead woman. “Count of three?”

Her jaw tightens and she again stalls. After careful consideration, she nods. “Y-yeah.” She takes in a shaky breath. _This isn’t going to be pleasant._ “One…two…three.” Even upon the utterance of the word, she pauses. Gathering herself a final time, she pulls Koltira onto the platform. Even before the light envelopes them, pain seeps through her boots and up her legs. When they disappear in a flash of holy light, the agony tears through her body as though she’s been thrown into searing magma. She screams but hears nothing over the rush in her ears. What only is a couple seconds feels like minutes. When they finally reappear she releases the death knight’s hand to quickly leap from the platform and onto the cool interior of the ship. She falls to her hands and knees and shakes, heavy breaths puffing from her throat. “N-never again…”

“Harmless enough,” Taveth says. He takes Alisbeth’s had and pulls her through.

On instinct, she tries to escape, but is too slow as the beacon sends them upward. The journey seems to take a lifetime, all of it flashing before Alisbeth’s eyes. Her hands clench at her sides. Her mouth opens into a silent scream. On the other side she is deposited onto the floor in a fetal position, clutching the sides of her head as she screams and screams.

Anarchaia musters the strength within her arms and legs to push herself to her feet, but before she can even plant both boots on the floor, she’s wrenched upward by an arm. She cries out in surprise and mild pain but quickly quiets and holds her breath when she’s met with her teacher’s eyes—blue and simmering with fury.

“_What are you doing here?_” he hisses at her through Alisbeth’s screaming. “I told you to stay. I said—”

“I know!” she cries. “I’m sorry! I-I just—”

“Go back. Or I’ll _send_ you back.” His hands glow purple around her upper arms.

“No! Just give me a chance! I want to help!”

“I’m serious, Anarchaia. This is no place for you. You’ve already had a firsthand taste of what can happen to you here,” Khadgar explains, anger still etched in his features.

“B-but—”

“You have five seconds.”

The smaller mage deflates some and frowns as tears well in her good eye. “Okay.”

Koltira strides forward, gritting his teeth as though he hadn’t experienced bone-shattering agony moments before. “I asked her here. Ple—”

Taveth stands and rushes to Khadgar. “Please. _I_ asked her here. You see, I’m in need of protecting and I could think of no one more capable.” He holds out his scroll for Khadgar. “We can speak in private if my need requires clarification?”

The Archmage gingerly takes the scroll after releasing Anarchaia from his grasp. He unfurls it and gives it a quick scan. His lips purse at the handwriting and he rerolls it for handing back. “Yes, fine,” he snaps, and motions for the high elf to follow him down the steps, but not before pointing a finger at his student. “You stay where you are until this is sorted. Are we clear?”

Anarchaia wraps her arms about herself and nods. “Crystal.”

“I-I’m so sorry, s-sir,” Taveth says, eyes wide and apologetic on Anarchaia as he follows Khadgar. “I would’ve asked, but, heh, we r-really had n-no way of reaching you. Heh.”

“So, when you want to borrow something from someone, but they’re nowhere to be found, you just take it?” Khadgar grumbles as they turn into a relatively secluded alcove near the bottom. “You could have taken anyone else. Any of the Archmages.” He narrows his eyes. “And what is your relation to the High King of Stormwind?”

Taveth bristles at the first comment. “I beg your pardon, Archmage, but Anarchaia is not a _thing_. When I want to borrow _things_ I… Well, I usually just get my own. And no, no other mage would work. I…only know my sister. And she’s… I’m not taking her on a mission this important. Are you implying that your apprentice isn’t good enough to accompany me?”

“I didn’t say she was.” Khadgar sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “While you have the King’s orders, it’s not particularly your place to override _my_ orders to my student.” He looks down at the man before him, the ire in his eyes fading some. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want someone close to you venturing to a Legion-riddled planet in the middle of space where return isn’t guaranteed?”

Taveth sighs and stares at the floor, his ears drooping some. “I didn’t know you cared that much for her. I…brought one of my two favorite people in the world, though. Because I believe in her abilities. And Ana’s. Your apprentice is…the closest thing I have to a best friend. I won’t get us into any situations that would cost any of us our lives. I promise. Plus, she really deserves this sort of exploration assignment, wouldn’t you agree? We could compare notes and share samples.” By the end, his eyes are shining with excitement over the new world.

Khadgar’s brow knits and he doesn’t smile. “I’m not here for research. I’m here to see to it that Sargeras can no longer torment our world with his twisted armada.” He chews on the inside of his lip and sighs again, folding his arms. “I didn’t want her to be here if something should happen to me. Nor did I want anything to happen to her. She’s my best friend, as well. And important.” He lowers his voice. “If _anything_ happens to her–if you somehow inadvertently expose her to fel magic with that dagger of yours…”

Taveth flinches, his whole body curling as he wraps his hands over his satchel. “C-course not. Not even a little. If there is anything you need in the fight against Sargaeras, just ask. Koltira has orders here, too. He’s here to fight for Azeroth. I am merely…eyes for one who cannot come himself.”

The Archmage nods. “Right, then. I’d prefer she be back home sooner than later, so soak in all the information your requested eyes can handle and get her back.” He turns away to stride down the hall. “Keep yourself safe as well, Mr. Nightheart.”

~ * ~

Koltira sets his palm on the mage’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Anarchaia says with a quiet sniffle. “He hasn’t yelled at me like that since…” She shakes her head and kneels to set a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder. “Hey. You all right, Ali?”

Alisbeth stares at the mage through her fingers over her face. “Hooow’d I get here?” she asks.

Anarchaia furrows her brow at the change in the other girl’s voice. “The teleporter. Don’t you remember?”

Alisbeth pushes to her feet and rubs her head. “I fell in the shower. Then I _think_ I went through a meat grinder… And now I’m here! Where is here?”

Koltira purses his lips and gives the mage a look.

A wave of disappointment washes over Anarchaia and she sobers and straightens. “We’re on a mission with Taveth. To kill demons, save people, and take notes. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

The death knight claps in excitement. “I love killing things! And those other things you said. When do we start? Where’s Grim? _OH MY GODS ARE WE IN SPACE?_” Alisbeth races down the stairs to press her face against the glass where on the other side is a view of Azeroth among the stars.

Anarchaia sighs and shrugs to the man beside her. “I knew it was too good to be true. Heh.”

Taveth slinks back to the others like a dog whose nose was just struck. “I’m sorry, Ana. I…should’ve come alone.” He shifts his bag and turn to the window. “They’re about to make the jump to Argus, if you’d like front row seats. I see Ali has claimed hers.”

“It’s fine.” Anarchaia sighs and shrugs. “If I’m being honest, you aren’t the one who convinced me. Heh.” She steps toward the window and Alisbeth. Before she can make it, however, something deep within the bowels of the ship whirs to life and it lurches forward. She stumbles but regains her footing, then watches with awe at the speed at which they approach the shattered planet. “Amazing.”

Taveth sits on the top step and opens his fresh journal to draw the main chamber of the Vindicaar.

Koltira stands beside the mage and shifts in discomfort. “Now I feel badly. He took the fall for me being a selfish asshole.”

Anarchaia frowns up at him. She reaches for his hand. “It’s not your fault. I could have refused.” She gives a reassuring smile he cannot see. “If you’re still feeling sore about it later, we can make it up to him somehow.” Her smile turns wry. “After all, I’m mostly to blam—” She stumbles into him as the ship rapidly slows to a cruising speed. “Sorry. Heh.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Grimory ascends the stairs with fists at his side. “You guys know the main method of travel here is _holy light magic_, right?”

Koltira purses his lips at the demon hunter. “We figured that out. I was not warned. And it seems Taveth’s mysterious orders-that-go-above-_everyone’s_-heads didn’t say it, either. I think. I haven’t seen them.”

“Well whatever,” Grimory says with a wave of his hand. “We’ve already got orders to scout the surface and assist the barricades that’ve been set up. You guys will have a grand ol’ time getting around.”

Anarchaia fidgets with her hands. “I-I don’t really want to go through that again…”

“Again, I’m sorry,” Taveth says behind them. “I’ll understand if you want to go back to Azeroth. I hear they’ve set up a non-Light portal downstairs, but I haven’t checked.” He glances at the demon hunter. “Hi, Grim.” He doesn’t wait for a response, but walks up the platform to speak to Prophet Velen.

Grimory’s lower eyelids twitch at the curt greeting and he nods in return.

Koltira eyes the high elf. “Khadgar have a history of…whatever is going on with Tav?”

Anarchaia, for only a second, considers taking the portal downstairs, then remembers Koltira’s pleading and shoves the thought away. “How do you mean?”

Koltira purses his lips. “Remember how excited he was to be going? And now he’s just…here. And he didn’t even actually acknowledge Grim. His face isn’t pressed to the window beside Alisbeth… It’s like he doesn’t care anymore.”

Anarchaia sobers. “O-oh. Master…has a way with words. Heh. When he’s angry, he doesn’t assault you with anger but cold disappointment.” She frowns. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have given in so easily.”

Koltira grabs the mage in a hug. “You actually didn’t. I practically had to flash you the puppy eyes. I was seriously about to just accept that I was coming here alone.” He sets his hand at her cheek. “I’m so glad that wasn’t the case.”

Anarchaia slowly smiles as she looks up into his face. She covers his hand with hers. “I was worried you were angry with me and seeing that you weren’t made it hard to decline.” She chuckles quietly. “I guess I just can’t say no to you.”

~ * ~

After glancing to see the usual pairs thoroughly distracted, Taveth asks Romuul to take him to the surface. Once there, he gasps, breathing in the brimstone air as the heat of it presses in on his skin. He finds a comfortable boulder and sits to sketch out the land as seen from high above on the winding path. He pauses and reaches into his satchel to run is fingertips across the rough vertebrae along he handle of the dagger; the gentle touch is enough for the skull to appear beside him, flaming and smooth. They remain in silence, staring out over the land.

<<Ah, home,>> Thal’kiel says gently, <<…I almost missed it.>> When he receives no response, he turns to stare at the elf. <<I can’t believe I’m saying anything…but you seem down.>>

“I feel as though since finding this dagger, anyone I mention it to or whomever finds out suddenly looks at me as though I’m a monster, rather than myself anymore.”

The skull gives a sort of wobble in the air as a nod. <<Ah, yes. Such a price comes with ambition. It’s a much lower cost than the rest of it.>>

“I’m not ambitious, though!”

<<_Yet,_>> Thal’kiel insists. <<Just don’t let anyone catch on, lest they take your disgustingly attractive head off.>>

Taveth smirks. “Did you just call me attractive?”

<<_What?_ No! I was talking about myself! I was once quite the looker.>>

Taveth chuckles and returns to his sketch of the broken land. Thal’kiel floats closer to look over his shoulder.

<<Look at the land. See how the Legion has drained it of every useful bit of magic. Not even a soul of a worm remains. Such efficiency must be praised.>>

Taveth cocks an eyebrow back at him. “If everything dies, what is left to conquer?”

<<Good, you’re learning. It’d bring a tear to my eye if I had flesh.>> He pauses and looks over the land. <<Would you like to see what it once was?>>

“You can do that?”

<<‘Oh, you can’…>> he makes a few mocking noises, <<_Of course I can do that!_>> He hits himself against Taveth’s forehead, just once.

When the elf’s eyes open, he sees the land as it was—beautiful and green. Flourishing. “It’s… I have no words!”

<<Yes, well, doodle it, then. It’ll last longer.>> The skull spins away to explore the area, hiding himself in a cozy alcove to admire the destroyed world. <<Can’t believe I’m helping a simpering _weakling_.>>

“I enslaved a doomlord,” Taveth says casually.

<<_Yeeesss,_ that’s right. You’re _almost_ worthy of _actually_ being called my apprentice.>>

“I’m touched.”

Thal’kiel grumbles and goes silent, but stays in his little hiding spot.


	3. Chapter 3

Grimory makes his way to Alisbeth and sets a hand on her back. “Hey. Enjoying the view?”

Alisbeth spins quickly and launches herself at the demon hunter to hug him. “_You’re here, too!_ At first I thought, this was a really big shower, but then of course it’s _not_ a shower. What are you doing here?”

Grimory’s eyebrows lift in surprise at the change in Alisbeth’s voice. His face then softens. “I’m on a mission. Do you want to help me?”

Alisbeth grins and nods rapidly. “I would love to! They said we’ll get to _kill_ things!”

Grimory smiles down at the woman before him and makes his way for the bridge of the ship. He scoffs at the other two as he passes. “Save your googly eyes for your days off. We have shit to do. It’s actually a good thing you brought Ana. She can teleport you around instead of using the platforms.”

Koltira rolls his eyes and sighs at the demon hunter. “I happen to be a great multitasker. I can make _googly_ eyes and get my job done at the same time.”

“Great. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of romantic spots for you two down there.” Grimory steps onto the transportation pad and, in a beam of golden light, disappears.

Alisbeth follows Grimory, coming out the other side screaming as before, her fists tearing at her hair.

Anarchaia shifts uncomfortably. “I guess the suffering will be short. He’s right about one thing: I can teleport us back and forth.” She sighs. “But I’m only able to teleport to places I’ve been, so…”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Koltira says to the mage. He clenches his fists, trying to prepare for the pain, but knowing there really is no possible way.

Grimory grits his fangs and kneels to help Alisbeth back to her feet, then pulls his ears back when Anarchaia’s screams pierce the air as well. He sighs. “I already hate it here.”

The mage punches a weak fist against the dirt and trembles as she waits for the burning in her veins to cease. “That makes two of us,” she growls through tightly clenched teeth.

Koltira emerges, jaw clenched and nails digging holes into his palms, but he doesn’t make a sound. Instead he waits until the pain subsides and holds out his hand to Anarchaia. “You okay?”

Anarchaia nods and takes the helping hand. “I’ve had worse? Heh.” She pauses, then deflates. “No, I haven’t.”

Taveth purses his lips, thanking his lucky stars his pen wasn’t against the paper when they’d come through. “Really?” he says to Grimory, without turning to look at the demon hunter. “I rather like it.” He returns to his sketch as though he were alone again.

The Illidari gives the high elf a glance with the slightest of annoyance. “It’s crawling with the scum of the great beyond. How someone like you can find joy in this is beyond me.” He motions to the path. “There’s a battle for dominance in the square up the road. We need to assist.”

Taveth shrugs. “Don’t think about what’s here. Just look at the land. Without all that, it’s a rather striking scene.”

Alisbeth pops to her feet and grins at the mage. “It’s like a meat grinder!” she says cheerily.

Koltira blinks after the other death knight as she runs to catch the Illidari. “Yeah, I’ll agree with that description.” He wraps his arm around Anarchaia’s waist to guide her to the aforementioned square.

“You staying here and doodling, then?” the demon hunter drones to Taveth as he passes.

Anarchaia gives Alisbeth a look accompanied by a nervous titter. “Or like having acid pump through your heart and brain.” A small, weasel-like animal chitters as the group approaches and it swiftly retreats into a small hole in the ashy, dead earth.

Taveth finishes his drawing and takes his time putting his things away, secretly slipping his dagger back into his satchel, then follows the others at a distance.

Alisbeth nods. “Oh, yes. That’s a good description, too. Very much like a warlock slowly draining the life out of you, but not so much that you die. It’s like that.”

The mage gives another, more uncomfortable laugh. “I wouldn’t know…”

The party comes upon a barricade seemingly made of glass formed from light alone. Beyond it is a path leading into a circular alcove swarming with demons of all sorts and draenei adorned in silver and gold plate holding them off. The ground rumbles occasionally from both parties’ attacks.

Grimory’s arms mutate and he pushes past the soldiers holding the line. “Let’s get to work.”

Taveth flinches at Alisbeth’s words. He stops momentarily to converse with Velen and Illidan, then strolls back to the group. “We need to disable the shields on those cannons so our forces can take them out.”

Illidan Stormrage looks down at the retreating Taveth as though the man had just insulted him. He glances at Velen. “Who is this?”

The Prophet hums as if restraining a chuckle. “A scholar sent on the king’s behalf. He is here for research.” He gives Taveth a slight smile, having overheard. “And tactics, it would seem.”

Taveth gives the towering demon hunter a nervous smile over his shoulder, then rushes to catch up with the others.

Koltira glances around the area. “Freeing a few slaves wouldn’t hurt… Would it?”

“I’m freeing all of them!” Alisbeth shouts, then takes off running into the fray to carve a path to the shackled broken.

“This looks important,” Anarchaia muses as she follows Grimory into a small cluster of eredari and places a hand upon a glowing green crystal humming with energy. Cracks splinter up its sides and it shatters from within, unable to withstand the arcane energy she outputs.

Upon seeing what Anarchaia does, Taveth grabs her shoulder to get her attention. “I think those are powering the shield!”

The mage jumps at the touch, then grins. “Oh, so you’re saying they don’t like this,” she says and trots to the next hovering crystal to shatter it, then the next, then the next.

Grimory places a sigil of silencing on the ground beneath the group before him. The demonic draenei women charge him instead and he easily slices through one’s belly.

Koltira nods at the elf. “You and Ana get those taken care of, the three of us will keep you…safe?” He glances around, noticing the other two have already taken out every demon in the near vicinity.

Alisbeth races for a towering demon.

“You’re missing out!” Grimory calls over his shoulder to Koltira. He ducks beneath the swinging blade of the six-armed demon woman and rakes his claws across the insides of her calves as he slides beneath her. “Get her arms, Ali.”

Alisbeth swings the Redblade upward and severs two of the shivara’s arms. “Like that?” She giggles.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Grimory laughs as he dodges the falling limbs and sword. When the demon brings an uninjured arm down to swing at him again, he grabs it by the wrist and pulls her to the ashy dirt.

Taveth sneers at the sudden amputation and turns to follow the mage. One of the tallest demons there, with spikes sticking from its back and shoulders, notices the little mage alone at the cannon. “Ana, run!” Taveth shouts, running toward her.

“Hm?” Anarchaia blinks and looks around. Her grin fades when she sees the massive demon striding toward her. A look of determination crosses her face and her body ignites in flame. With a tap of her heel, a silver and purple circle circumscribes her and she steels herself before throwing a large ball of crackling fire at the advancing demon.

Koltira purses his lips and runs toward the huge demon. Once close enough, he yells out at it, catching its attention.

Alisbeth stares at the other three. “Oh! Ashmane caught a big one!”

Burning and angry, the monstrosity turns on Koltira. Deciding him a better target, he stomps toward him with his massive claws raised and ready to strike. Before he can bring them down, a tendril of flame snaps around his wrist and pulls his arm back.

Anarchaia struggles to restrain the him, but is thrown forward when the demon jerks on the fiery whip.

Grimory buries his claws into the back of the shivara’s neck as she hits the ground and the woman falls limp. He looks, then laughs as Anarchaia hits the dirt face-first. “Too big.”

Alisbeth runs after the others. “Taveth, stop being an idiot!” She passes the others to get to her cousin, where he’s busied himself unshackling a slave, too distracted to see the vile fiends hopping their way to him.

Koltira throws a shadowy tendril at the towering demon, pulling it back toward him. Just then, the beast stops in its tracks and rakes deadly claws through the air in front of itself. Koltira dives out of the way and jumps back to his feet.

Grimory runs forward to assist, but stops too short to avoid the sweeping claws. He brings his arms up and the demon leaves weeping red steaks across them. He hisses and backs up, then blows fire from the depths of his core.

The demon growls as he’s burned again and backs away as well, covering his eyes with his large, gnarled hands. He nearly crushes the mage underfoot, but she scrambles away at the last moment.

Anarchaia throws a well-placed ice shard toward his ankle and he stumbles to his back, the ground shuddering below.

“My turn!” Alisbeth squeals, hopping over as she twirls her sword. She gains the momentum she wants and swings at the demon’s neck. The Redblade buries into the thick skin, slicing through the sinew and tendons holding the demon’s head on its body. The blade stops at the bone, but not before becoming embedded in a vertebra. Alisbeth grins at the mage. “Saved your life.”

“I don’t think she’s the one who needed saving,” Koltira says, pointing behind her at Taveth, who is backing away from an eredari woman, speaking calmly as though he can talk her out of killing him.

Anarchaia gives a nervous grin as though restraining a sneer and pushes quickly to her feet. She scuffs a boot across the ground and a white spark of frost crawls across the dirt until it reaches the demon’s hooves. The woman jerks her leg in an attempt to proceed toward Taveth, but growls and whips her head to glare at the other four instead. She lifts a hand and hurls erratic balls of fel fire at them.

Grimory throws up a rippling shield of green and black and flinches as the bolt crashes against it. He steps forward but is again pushed back some with another blast of fire.

The mage takes by example and summons a shield of violet. Instead of advancing, she retaliates with her own fire spells.

The eredari leans out of the way and growls at them. <<Insolent vermin!>>

Taveth smirks at the woman’s back. <<Told you.>>

Alisbeth skips over, whistling a happy tune. She smiles up at the woman. “I like your horns. I think I’ll keep them.”

The eredari, not knowing what Alisbeth said, sneers anyway and swipes at the elf. Alisbeth hops back, but trips over a rock and falls. The woman stands over her, ignoring the spells from the mage, and stomps her hoof into the death knights stomach.

“_Ali!_” Grimory rushes forward as his shield dissipates. He closes the space between himself and the woman as quickly as his legs will carry him and tackles her to the ground.

When she tries to recover, he shoves her head back to the dirt. The eredari cries out and places a hand on Grimory’s chest. Fire fills the space between their skin. The demon hunter grits his fangs in pain but does not relent; he buries his claws in her chest and continues to hold her despite his burning flesh. The fire in her hand fades with the light in her eyes and she falls limp.

Grimory stands, his chest red, blistered, and bleeding. <<Whore.>> He spits on her corpse. He looks over his shoulder at Alisbeth, avoiding showing her the extent of his injury. “Are you all right?”

“That was _cool_,” Alisbeth says. “I think she dented my armor with her stupid, fat hoof. And my head hurts. I think I’m okay, though.” She stands and goes to him. “Are you okay?”

“We’ll get you some briarthorn tea for your head.” He sets his palm atop said head and smiles. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get a move on.” He turns to continue up the path, wiping blood from his stomach as he does so.

Anarchaia chuckles to Taveth. “I wouldn’t advise trying to talk your way out of anymore fights. I don’t think the people here are inclined for peace.”

Taveth shrugs at the mage. “No harm trying? Heh.”

Koltira narrows an eye at the man. “No harm? Did you _see_ the same things as me? Because it sure doesn’t seem that way. You can’t talk your way out of fights, especially not here. You wanted us to come along to protect you, so stop running ahead and being reckless so we _can_.”

Alisbeth purses her lips at Koltira, then looks at Taveth. Ultimately, though, she decides to follow after Grimory.

Anarchaia sets a gentle palm on Koltira’s upper arm and gives him an equally gentle smile. “Go easy on him,” she whispers and trots after Alisbeth.

Grimory comes to a clearing surrounded by crag and burnt rocks. In the center protrudes large structures swirling with fel energies. He chews on the inside of his cheek. “This seems…odd,” he says. “You’d think there’d be some sort of defense here.”

Koltira stares at his feet, then falls into step beside the high elf. “I’m an asshole, I know.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Taveth says. He eyes the area and the strange structure; the small hairs on his arms raise.

“Just let us keep you alive,” Koltira says.

Alisbeth leans against Grimory. “What do you think this is? A statue? A weapon?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” Grimory grumbles.

“Well done incapacitating their weaponry,” comes a dark growl behind the group. “This empty lot, however, is worrisome. This area is vulnerable to attack.” Illidan folds his arms and scrutinizes the surrounding area from behind his blindfold.

“Perhaps not all is as it seems,” the Prophet adds as he joins them, clenching his staff tightly.

The ground below begins to tremble. The earth around the two pillars before them cracks and splits; from the fissures crawl two clawed hands. A demon taller than the cliffs on either side of them pushes to its feet; rings of dust emanate from the soles of its boots and rubble crumbles from the rocky walls.

Grimory pulls his ears back and takes a step away, pulling Alisbeth by the arm as he does so. Anarchaia reflexively grabs at Koltira. The demon gives a groan that resonates throughout the area and raises a claw up to bring down upon them.

A shield of light encases the group and Velen grunts as the demon’s fist impacts the barrier. “_A demon?!_”

“A weapon,” Illidan growls and glares over his shoulder at the group. “Show no mercy!”

Taveth instinctively hops behind Koltira.

The death knight gives him a look and shakes his head. “No place for a scholar,” he mutters, drawing his sword.

Alisbeth tests the shield around them, swinging the Redblade at the foot of the demon. Her blade goes through and makes contact. She giggles and swings again and again, doing what damage she can.

“I’ll keep it distracted. Give it your worst,” Illidan growls and takes to the sky. The demon gives a groan and attempts to swipe at him, but the demon lord is faster and rakes his glaive across the giant’s arm.

“Aim for the spaces between its armor,” Grimory adds and spreads his wings to follow. He grabs onto the demon’s back and does his best to drill his claws into the flesh between the cuirass and pauldron. Green blood dribbles down onto the dirt below.

Anarchaia aims a steady blast of fire at the monstrosity’s foot. The armor begins to glow after a moment and the demon groans again, stepping away from the flames. She does not relent, however, and chuckles to herself as she continues to burn its one sole.

“Ali, hit it with the Redblade,” Taveth says as he nonchalantly slips behind Velen when Koltira runs forward to join the fight.

She stops just outside the shield. “Huh?” A giant hand swipes her across the clearing.

Grimory catches a flying object in his peripherals. His ears pull back. “_Ali!_” He pushes off the demon, wings spread, and races to catch her. The momentum drags him from the sky and they both hit the cliffside. He growls in pain but steadies their decent with his claws buried in the rocks until their feet reach the earth again. He carries her back to the forcefield and sets her inside. “Don’t leave the bubble,” he hisses. “Use magic if you can’t reach.”

Illidan scoffs in disgust at his disciple’s softness, then buries his glaives into the demon’s shoulder. In a flurry of slicing blades, he rips them free and the arm in its entirety falls to the ground with an earthshaking crash.

Alisbeth brushes away from Grimory as though having heard nothing he said. “You’re so awesome!” Alisbeth says, racing toward Illidan. “What’s your name? I like you! Your horns are super cool!”

Taveth grumbles. “Ali! The Redblade!” he motions where she’d dropped it.

But she ignores him, too.

Grimory instantly grabs Alisbeth by the arm. “Ali!” He turns her to face him. “Stay in the bubble, yeah? I mean it.”

Anarchaia scoots away from the growing pool of blood as though touching it will harm her. She gathers her power to conjure a massive spear of ice and sends it into the flesh peeking out between the demon’s leg guards.

The monster groans and stumbles to a knee. More blood joins the rest. Illidan sees the opportunity and plants his hooves onto its shoulder. With his weapons, he slashes deeply into the barely exposed neck. As with its arm, the demon’s head falls to the earth with immeasurable weight, breaking rubble from the cliffs. The rest of the body follows.

Velen _hmph_s and the shield dissipates. “Well done.”

Alisbeth purses her lips and blinks at the demon hunter. “The bubble is gone.”

Grimory rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “You know what I meant,” he grumbles and turns.

Koltira lifts her sword from the dirt and walks over, holding it out. “Don’t lose it or I might think you don’t want it anymore.”

“Why _do_ I have the Redblade, now? Where’s my axe? Can I go get it?”

“Too busy,” Taveth muses to no one, lost in the drawing of the goliath demon.

Illidan hops down from the motionless body and scrutinizes the mage—tiny in his presence. “That mask. You must be Khadgar’s. You live up to how highly he speaks of you.”

Anarchaia flushes and waves a hand. “O-oh. It was nothing.”

He turns on Grimory. “And you, Silversong. You show obvious weakness. Work to rid yourself of it.”

Grimory grits his teeth behind his lips but nods and says nothing.

Velen gives the faintest of chuckles. “You all did well. Disregard Stormrage’s hardheartedness.”

Alisbeth grins up at Illidan’s face. “You wanted me to go _splat!_ Didn’t you?” She hops up and down, trying to grasp his horns. “I think…you’re right…and Grim shoulda…let me splat.”

Koltira hides his pursed lips behind his fist. “Ali can you show any kind of restraint?”

“_I just wanna touch them!_”

Illidan jerks his head away, though she comes nowhere close to actually touching them. “I’m going back to see to the barricade. The rest of the defense should be on lookout for a retaliation.” He spreads his wings and takes off in the direction he’d come.

Velen nods in understanding. Something catches his violet gaze and he steps up the path. The previously freed prisoners make their way up the path across the now empty clearing.

“This way,” he says over his shoulder and motions for the rest to follow.

With the demeanor of a beaten dog, Grimory does as suggested with Anarchaia in tow. <<Gods forbid I have feelings. We all can’t be complete monsters,>> he mutters beneath his breath.

Taveth gives the demon hunter’s shoulder a tentative pat. <<He’s wrong.>> He walks faster to catch up to Velen and opens his journal to take notes as he interviews the prophet.

Alisbeth hops up to Grimory and hooks her arm in his. “He’s cool! Is that your leader dude?”

Koltira slips in behind Anarchaia to kiss the top of her head as they walk. “You did a fantastic job.”


	4. Chapter 4

The group finds themselves in a small hovel with a stone circle of burned firewood and other small signs of civilization. Velen stands ready, his eyes sweeping the area.

“We are surrounded!” His eyes take in the area, furiously searching; the others do the same. “Show yourselves!”

Broken fade in from the shadows wielding rough spears trained on the party. One steps closer than the others, no weapon drawn but a scowl across his face.

“Velen, at long last you return to the home you abandoned.” He spits the words from his lips and sneers at the prophet.

“Hatuun? How did you survive this hell for so long?”

Taveth immediately turns the page and begins taking notes on a clean sheet.

“We changed,” he growls, “just as Argus did. We endured. What choice did we have?”

Velen sighs and closes his eyes as he nods. “I do not wish to fight you, Hatuun. But I cannot allow your bitterness to impede our war against the Legion.”

Hatuun slowly shakes his head. “You turned your back on your people, Prophet. Your world. Such betrayal should be answered with death.” He sighs as well, his hostile stance softening. “But…your allies saved many of us from the Legion’s grasp. Perhaps _you_ have changed.”

“Enough!” a man’s voice booms from a nearby alcove in the cliffside. He steps forward, blond haired, scarred, and covered in glowing golden armor.

Taveth gasps and drops his journal and pen, then scrambles to pick them back up to write furiously across the first page he turns to. “Turalyon,” he mumbles to himself. “I can’t believe it!”

Anarchaia pauses upon the realization. A small scroll and quill appear beside her and, eyes still on the High Exarch, she scribbles a brief message before rolling up the parchment and sending it off with a puff of smoke.

Turalyon sets a gloved hand on Hatuun’s shoulder. “We’re all among friends. Violence is unnecessary and counter-productive.” He nods to the group before him. “Well met. You have my thanks, as well, for freeing our enslaved. They are among the many problems we yet have here.”

“Is Alleria here as well?” Anarchaia blurts.

Turalyon chuckles. “Somewhere.”

Taveth smiles at the man. “Is there anything we can do for you, Turalyon? We’re here to help.”

“Indeed, there is,” he says. “There are three pit lords to the north, they’ve been taking prisoner other Krokuul. And they stand as a barrier in the way of us eliminating the leader of their operation, Aggonar.”

“North?” Koltira says, unsheathing his weapon.

“Yes, in the Annihilation Pits.”

Velen grunts and nods in thought. “Yes, it is as good a starting place as any. I will call down a Lightforged Beacon to—”

“No!” Alisbeth and Koltira shout in unison.

Anarchaia reflexively grabs onto Koltira’s arm and gives an exaggerated whine at the word _Lightforged_. “Th-that won’t be necessary. Heh. I can handle transportation…”

Taveth raises his hand, “I have no objection to this action, Prophet.”

Grimory shrugs. “I’ll take the beacon.” He nods to Turalyon. “We’ll not let you down.” With a curt and shallow bow, he turns and makes his way back for the path leading north.

“I have the highest of faith,” Turalyon replies, hands on his hips.

The group heads out of the hovel, Taveth casting glances behind at the human among the broken. They get to a path where a giant mech patrols up and down the main road.

“I’ve seen something like that before,” Alisbeth says. “It tried to squish me.”

Koltira purses his lips. “We should probably run, before it comes back.”

Taveth looks up from his journal to see the others running across the way. He tries to chase after them, but the ground rumbling beneath his feet sends him ducking behind a boulder to watch the huge reaver stomp past.

“Pit lords are no joke,” Grimory grumbles as they near another clearing—this one half filled with emerald lava and patrolling sorceresses. “So please try to be careful,” he says toward Alisbeth in a lower tone.

Anarchaia blinks forward up the path. She stops and bobs a finger at each massive demon, back and forth, until landing on the far right of the three paths. “Any objections with killing this one first? Perhaps we could split into groups and do two at once—”

“No,” Grimory snaps. “Don’t be foolish. Each will take more than two people to take down.”

“This way, then?” Alisbeth asks, then skips down the trail to collect eredari and vile fiends, snaking purple tendrils out to grab them and yank them to her.

Koltira shrugs and urges Anarchaia forward, before running into the fray himself.

Irritated with being reprimanded, Anarchaia follows. She freezes an approaching fel hound, lights it on fire, and throws it back into the cliffside where an abundance of rocks fall atop it. She then follows the others after they’ve made short work of the group of demons.

The pit lord glowers at the lot as they approach. Without hesitation, he swings at them with his massive sword as warning.

Grimory looks over his shoulder at Alisbeth. “Ali, you think you can get on his back? Hack at his spine ‘til he can’t move?”

Alisbeth giggles. “Of course I can! Just keep him steady.” She skirts around the area and watches his tail, preparing the climb.

<<Oi, dickface!>> Grimory calls up to the pit lord as it turns its head to follow Alisbeth. The demon instead sneers and swipes at Grimory with his sword, but the demon hunter leaps over the slash.

<<I’ll see to it that your bones are ground to dust!>> the pit lord growls and summons a ball of green flames toward the three in front of him.

Anarchaia narrowly blinks from its path, then pats out the flames on her robes. In a futile attempt to help, she throws shards of ice at the demon’s cheek and forehead, but he pays little mind and again tries to slash at the demon hunter before him.

“Useful,” she mutters.

Alisbeth runs up the tail, waving her arms wildly to stay balanced. She jumps forward and lands straddling the pit lord’s back like a steed. Immediately, the death knight sets to slashing and hacking at the flesh beneath its shoulder blades.

Koltira runs to the demon’s side, slashing at his middle and the soft flesh of his belly.

The demon groans in pain as Koltira’s blade pierces his muscles beneath and Alisbeth’s tears at his back. He reaches back to grab at her but recoils instead as a large cloud of orange and green flames wash over his front. After a minute of agony and writhing against the fire, the pit lord’s legs suddenly fall numb and he falls to the burnt ground beneath him.

Koltira dodges out of the way as Alisbeth jumps from the back of the demon before it can fall on them. Once he settles, the two return to slashing lines at him.

Grimory leaps forward, wings spread, and rakes his claws in a ring around the demon’s throat. Blood pours down; the demon grasps at his throat, but the blood loss from the rest of his wounds proves too much and the sword falls from his clawed hand.

The demon hunter leaps back to the ground and huffs a breath, wiping at his brow. “Right. Good job.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow. “Grim, your chest.”

Grimory glances down at his wound from earlier, now freshly bleeding from the strain. He wipes the blood away. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” He makes his way back up the path.

The death knights fall into step with the other two.

~ * ~

Taveth pops his head up and realizes the coast is clear. He runs to the opening of the Pits and stops, unsure where to go.

<<Burn!>> A sorceress runs at Taveth, fel fire swirling around her fists.

The elf turns and runs left, away from the woman. After checking over his shoulder to see her growl and retreat, he looks forward into the belly of a pit lord. His body bounces from the huge demon and he falls to the ground. The pit lord laughs, slow and menacing, as he bends to look at the little creature between his front feet.

<<What have we here? A little hero, come to die like the rest?>>

Taveth swallows. <<Um, hi? Any chance we can…talk this out and come to a peaceful resolution?>>

Taveth skitters backward, but the pit lord stomps on his legs, pinning him in place. The elf cries out and finds a rock to throw; it distracts the demon only so much that Taveth is able to crawl away and reach into his satchel. Magraloth growls and stomps forward to grab the man, pulling him up by a foot. Taveth scrabbles in the air as his satchel slips over his shoulder, the strap knocking the spine dagger from his grasp before even Thal’kiel can appear.

“Keeshokin!” he shouts. “Help!”

The felguard runs forward, appearing as though through a cloud of purple smoke. He gives a grumpy sigh as he beholds his master, dangling helplessly in the air. He mutters obscenities and curses at Taveth as he runs forward to beat at the pit lord.

Magraloth sneers and swipes at the little demon with his huge sword, then hits him with Taveth. The spikes on the felguard’s back slice into various parts of the elf’s body, one stabbing straight into his shoulder. Taveth screams out, then is ripped back into the air.

The felguard throws his axe at the pit lord’s head, dazing him. His arms fall limp and Taveth falls onto his back, the air knocked out of him. He coughs and takes in desperate breathes to recover, then rolls onto his stomach to crawl toward the dagger.

Magraloth roars in anger as he comes to. He swipes at Keeshokin, knocking him away into a pool of fel lava, then turns his sights on the elf.

<<Hey, fatty!>> Keeshokin yells, shaking the lava from himself.

Magraloth spins around to glare at him; his tail swipes across the dirt and flings the scrawny man several yards and into a jagged cliff’s edge. It cuts through his shirt and across his back leaving angry red lineswhich sprout blood. The elf grits his teeth and glares over at the dagger, but cannot find the strength to pull himself over. Instead, he whistles for a felhound. It pads into the area and stares at him as though confused.

“The dagger,” he hisses.

The hound runs over, sniffs Taveth’s satchel, and drags it back to him by the strap. He growls in his throat and drops his head into the dirt. Taveth’s eyes flutter closed as the hound lopes off. It returns with the spine dagger and noses it into its master’s hand, but the elf doesn’t respond.

Thal’kiel materializes over the two and tuts. <<All the time I’ve waited for this moment. For your eyes to close and never open again. And now here we are, and you’re having that slow, painful death I’d wished I could inflict upon—… You’re not even conscious, are you? You’re missing my grand speech. _Rude._>> He twirls around the area. <<Where’s that oaf?>>

<<Me?>> Keeshokin asks, popping his head around the pit lord.

<<If the shoe fits… No, the meathead Spinewing is stuck inside.>> He raises higher and spins to get his bearings. <<Ahh, a blond bimbo heads our way.>> He zips over to Grimory. <<Hellooo…weak Spinewing.>>

Grimory scowls at the hovering skull. “Surely you aren’t speaking of me,” he spits. “What do you want?”

Anarchaia urges him forward. “Come on, we’ve got two more.”

<<If I had eyes, they’d be rolling.>> He turns to face the mage. <<If I’d a stomach, I’d be vomiting. Go away.>>

“I’d rather smell of good energy than smelly fel,” Anarchaia mumbles, arms folded.

Alisbeth leaps forward and grabs the floating skull. She wraps her arms around it. “Can I keep it?”

Koltira readies his sword. “It’s a trap. Hold it still.”

Thal’kiel gasps. <<My pathetic weakling of a master is dying! And before I can do my victory speech, too. I…command you to free me from this halfwit’s grasp and save my—_our—_master.>>

Grimory’s ears pull back and he furrows his brow. “_Dying?!_ Where?” He grabs Thal’kiel from Alisbeth’s grasp to hold him up to his own face. “Tell me!”

<<Easy with the yanking!>> Thal’kiel shouts. <<Follow me.>>

Alisbeth crouches, then springs forward to grab the skull. He jerks away from her and zips quickly over the jagged rocks to hover over Taveth.

<<I can’t hold it much longer,>> Keeshokin grunts.

Grimory spreads his wings and follows with little hesitation. He lands and kneels at Taveth’s side, then pushes him over onto his back. “Oh gods, Tav. What happened? Hey, can you hear me?” He waits for a brief pause, then hisses when he gets no response. He scoops the elf up into his arms and throws the satchel over his shoulder, including the dagger. “I’m taking him back,” the Illidari calls to the other’s as they approach. “Take care of the pit lords without me.” He leaps into the air and over the cliffs. “And don’t die!”

Anarchaia watches him go, then cringes at the hefty amount of blood in the dirt. She frowns. “We should have kept an eye on him…”

Alisbeth hugs herself as tears spread along her lower lids. “What if he died and I wasn’t there? We should bring him back, huh, Kolty? We can do that?”

Koltira shrugs. “We could…” He stares at the skull floating in front of him, saying words he can’t understand.

<<He’s not dead, you idiots!>> Thal’kiel says again. <<Come on, Kee, time to go.>> As though by a cord on the back of his skull, Thal’kiel swivels and is dragged after the flying pair. <<Always wondered if my spine had a range. Now I know.>>

Keeshokin runs after the skull, dragging the pit lord over the other three. He pats Anarchaia hard on the shoulder. <<Tag, you’re it.>> The felguard disappears in a swirl of purple smoke.

Anarchaia jerks at the strong hand. “It…?”

Magraloth leers down at the mage. <<_More_ of you? Bah!>> He raises his spear to swing at them.

She turns at the booming voice above her. “Oh. I don’t want to be it.” She runs forward in an attempt to get beneath the demon, but is too slow.

The staff of the spear crashes hard against her waist and sends her into the cliffside. She hits the jagged rocks below and struggles to stand again. Before she can get to her hands and knees, debris shaken free from the impact lands atop her; a quiet snap soundsand she cries out in pain.

Magraloth sneers down at the other two. <<Who’s next?>>

Alisbeth freezes. “He is.” She points at Koltira and takes off running around the outside of the area.

“_Ali!_”

The pit lord narrows an eye at Koltira, then looks at Alisbeth. <<I think not.>> He spins around to catch Alisbeth. She kicks at the air as he lifts her up to his eye-level and laughs.

Alisbeth swings her sword, but it misses him entirely as her arms cannot reach that far.

Koltira drops beside Anarchaia. “Hey, you okay?”

Anarchaia groans in pain and attempts to stand. She cries out sharply and grabs her wounded appendage. “My leg. It’s broken.” She groans again, then looks past Koltira. Pushing aside the pain for a moment, she hurls a spike of ice at the pit lord’s wrist. It growls at drops Alisbeth in surprise. Anarchaia throws a spell of slow falling on her as she falls. “Don’t worry about me,” she says back up to Koltira. “Finish the mission.”

Koltira grits his teeth and lifts the mage out of the rubble; she covers her mouth at the pain of being moved as a stabbing and grinding within her leg forces a whimper from her throat. He finds a boulder and sets her down gently. She sighs in relief and breathes quietly to ease the pain.

“You shout if you need anything, okay?”

Anarchaia nods.

He kisses her and runs toward Magraloth. “Ali, you good?”

“I want to go _for a ride_,” she says pointedly.

“Hey! Ugly!” Koltira shouts, urging the pit lord to focus on him instead.

Alisbeth sprints up the tail and onto his back. They work together as they had with Xeth’tal. The three of them manage to eventually down the pit lord; the mage hurling shards of ice when her strength allows, though, ultimately her contribution is negligible. Once the pit lord hits the dirt, she gives a pained smile and claps gently as though the curtain had just fallen. Alisbeth groans and wipes at the blood over her armor. Koltira finds a bone in the soil and goes to Anarchaia.

“Do you mind if I splint it?”

Anarchaia’s smile falls. “U-uhm. I…imagine that would be the best course of action.”

After securing the mage’s leg, Koltira lifts her into his arms and follows Alisbeth up the hill. The woman kills everything in their path as the approach Kar’aaz.

Anarchaia swallows a groan from the pain of being jostled. She grits her teeth and scrutinizes the pit lord as they near.

Kar’aaz sizes the trio up and laughs, low and gravelly. <<More fodder for the fel.>> He stabs at the ground with his spear and grins. <<Come, then.>>

Koltira finds an outcropping and sets the mage down again. “Aim for the eyes.” He winks and runs at the pit lord, grabbing his attention so the women can attack the demon.

Alisbeth climbs up the tail, then starts in on his spine.

Anarchaia can’t help smiling in his wake. She lifts a hand and conjures a large spike of ice that hovers diligently while its master takes the time to aim. Her arm lurches forward—not without a cry of agony—and with it the spear. The ice shard pierces Kar’aaz’s eye and he grunts in pain, irritation, and anger. Liquid pours to the ground and he glares at the mage from across the arena.

The pit lord takes a step forward, but something in his spine pops. His knees buckle and he falls forward with a crash. He slashes at the death knights with claws and spear. <<Vermin!>>

Alisbeth rams the Redblade upward into the base of Kar’aaz’s head. He roars in anger and agony, arms flailing to scrape the elf from his back. His strength ebbs, then fails as he collapses on the ground.

Koltira runs back to Anarchaia to cut off the head of a hound approaching, then smiles as he cleans his blade. “Ready to go? A-Ali! Stop!”

Alisbeth runs up a hill and around a corner glowing with light. She rushes back into sight, smiling. “Guys! Up here!”

Anarchaia cautiously gets to her feet, but doubles over before she can straighten. She groans, arms folded over her stomach. “This may be worse than I thought.” She looks up at Koltira and forces a smile. “You guys go on without me.”

Koltira scoops the mage into his arms and smiles charmingly at her. “And leave you here alone to fend for yourself? Never.” He follows Alisbeth up the hill, where Turalyon is fighting off a pack of vile fiends.

He finishes them with a holy sweep of his sword, then turns to smile at the others. “Ah, hello. Weren’t there more of you?”

Alisbeth frowns. “Taveth got hurt, Grim took him to the Ventilator.”

“Vindicaar,” Koltira corrects.

Turalyon looks them over and sighs at the mage. “You are badly injured. Let me help.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen as the human approaches her with hands glowing with golden magic. She cries out as they near and, despite the pain of moving, swats them away in a panic. She pauses, breathing heavily, and glances between Alisbeth and the man above her. “U-uhm. Sorry. I just… I don’t know what came over me. Heh.”

Turalyon knits his brow. “If you’d prefer to remain battered—”

“No!” Anarchaia looks up at Koltira and steels herself. “No. Go ahead.”

The paladin reaches a gloved hand to rest above the mage’s core. Sparkling golden light covers her being and she claws at Koltira’s cuirass, her fingers desperately trying to get a grip. She gnaws on her finger as her bones settle into place and mend. A scream escapes her and she flails, pushing his hand away a second time.

“Thank you!” She pants. “Thank you. Heh.”

Alisbeth’s eyes narrow and her lips purse at the mage’s behavior. _Hmm. Odd,_ she thinks. _Almost seems to hurt her, like it did us,_ comes the response. “Suspicious,” she mutters, then turns to sneer at a glowing pit of fel lava. “Is that the guy we need to flay?”

Turalyon makes a face. “We’re not…flaying him. Did you mean slay?”

“Nope.” She skips forward, sword on her shoulder as she whistles a gentle tune.

“Right,” the High Exarch says, “we should probably go help. This one won’t be so easy as the others.”

Koltira hugs Anarchaia tight and purses his lips. “You did good,” he whispers. “I can only imagine… Are you okay?”

Anarchaia groans and straightens. “His Light… It was worse than the beacon. He’s so powerful. Ugh.” Her stomach turns and she sighs. “Let’s help.” She gabs his hand and smiles. “The sooner we finish the sooner we take a break…”

The demon swipes at Alisbeth as she nears. <<Disgusting creatures,>> it hisses and hurls a ball of swirling fel energy at the human as well.

Turalyon slices the orb in two and the energies dissipate. “I’ll keep its attention,” he calls loudly enough for the three to hear. “Mind the lava and take him out.”

The heroes fight the pit lord, slicing, slashing, and casting.

<<Bah!>> the pit lord growls. <<Die weaklings!>>

The four are flung back and stunned in place by fel eruptions under their feet. A swarm of hounds leaps from the lava and they crawl toward the incapacitated group. Before they can reach the party, a portal opens and arrows rain from within to blanket the area. An elf leaps out and frees them from their bonds.

“Alleria,” Turalyon beams, “perfect timing, as always.”

Alleria smirks and sends an arrow sailing into the pit lord’s brow. “An elf arrives precisely when she means to.” She smiles at her husband and steps aside as the three rush past. “Didn’t leave you waiting too long, I imagine.”

Anarchaia gathers her strength and blasts the demon’s face with the coldest winds she can conjure. He howls as his eyes freeze into hard orbs and punches at the ground blindly.

“You never do,” Turalyon responds and quickly rushes forward to slice off the gigantic hand at the wrist.

Alisbeth lifts her palm to one of the frozen eyes. A trail of swirling blood leaves it and goes into her hand, pulling and pulling until the eye suddenly shatters. She giggles excitedly. Blood seeps from the wound as the pit lord screams out and bats wildly with his severed wrist.

Koltira swings his sword up to pop the other eye, but fails and ends up with the blade stuck inside. He lets go before the demon rears up and falls back into the lava. “My…sword… Dammit.”

Anarchaia chuckles and sets a hand on Koltira’s shoulder. “We’ll get you another.”

A beam of light pierces the dense clouds. From it appears a Lightforged Beacon, its panels clicking as they unfold.

“Wait, Turalyon,” Alleria says as the man nears the pad. “I’ve heard…Arator.”

“Yes. I’ve heard as well. I think we’re ready to face him. After all this time.” Turalyon scratches at the back of his neck and sighs. “Surely he’ll understand.”

“Arator is a reasonable man,” Anarchaia interjects with a smile. “At least he seemed as such from the two times I’ve met him. Heh.”

Alisbeth scoots up to Anarchaia and goes to throw her arm over the mage’s shoulders. She pauses, then forces herself to grin. “Care to join me on the Beacon?” she asks sweetly, steering the mage to the golden platform.

Anarchaia glances at Alisbeth as a beat of panic flickers within herself. “I-I can open a portal back to the ship.” She steps away and lifts a hand to do so, but the area just fizzles with light that quickly fades away. “O-oh. I guess getting hurt that badly affected me more than I anticipated.” She laughs nervously. “I must have wasted it all on that last fight.”

Alisbeth waves a hand dismissively. “_Pfft._ Why waste energy on portals, anyway? These Beacons don’t require anything. Just hop right on and to the other side. _Riight?_” She grins at the mage and gives her shoulders a squeeze. “Come on, then.”

Anarchaia fidgets at the girl’s suspicious behavior. “I suppose that’s a valid point. Heh.” She turns to walk for the portal but suddenly finds she can’t move her feet. She swallows. “Yep. Really…really valid.”

“Yay!” Alisbeth weaves her fingers through Anarchaia’s and urges her onto the pad. “Together!”

Koltira grabs Alisbeth’s shoulder. “Why don’t I—”

“Come with us, too? Yes!” She grabs him with her other hand and drags them up. She grits her teeth as her form is surrounded by light.


	5. Chapter 5

Grimory finds his way to the beacon. He leaps on and he and Taveth disappear in a beam of light. Once back aboard the Vindicaar, the demon hunter carries the bloodied high elf into the bowels of the ship where the infirmary lies. A draenei woman clad in golden robes rushes to them.

“What is the extent of the damage?” she says in a calm that betrays how quickly she pushes Grimory to set Taveth down on a cot.

“Uh,” Grimory stammers. “Puncture wound to the shoulder. I assume some broken bones.”

The draenei woman waves him away after he’s set Taveth down. “Any bites or places the fel may have infected?”

“I…don’t think so?”

“Right.” She places her hands over Taveth’s unconscious body.

Golden light encases him and the most superficial of his wounds close; the bleeding stops and any bones are returned to their proper position.

She sighs. “That is the best for now. He will need a bit of rest.”

A young draenei man saunters into the infirmary a few minutes later, holding a mangled and bleeding hand.

<<Eophen,>> the nurse says in her calm voice as she approaches. <<Again? You need to entertain more prudence.>> She sighs and inspects the damage.

The man chuckles and winces through his smile. <<I know. I’m sorry. I caught it in a gear. It is a good thing Father wasn’t there this time to scold me.>> He grits sharp teeth together and closes his glowing, golden eyes. <<Thank you, Orelya. You’re an angel.>>

Grimory perks his ears and looks up from his place on the floor. <<You engineer this ship?>>

Eophen turns while Orelya bandages his mostly healed hand. <<You speak Draenei?>> He regards the nurse with a nod and a smile, then approaches the sitting demon hunter. <<Yes, I do. My father, my sister, and I.>> He shakes the Illidari’s hand with his uninjured one. <<Eophen.>>

<<Grimory. This is Taveth.>>

Eophen blinks down at the battered high elf. <<He seems…not fit for this environment.>> He chuckles sadly. <<All you off-worlders are ambitious. It is a good thing we have some of the best healers.>>

Grimory laughs. <<The best healers back home are draenei as well. You all do good work.>>

Taveth stirs at the sounds of voices. His fingers twitch and his lips curve into a frown. The high elf sits up, breathing frantically. “I command you to k—” He looks wildly around the room before his gaze settles on Grimory. “Wh-where am I? What’s happening?”

Both the Illidari and draenei look at the man. Grimory clears his throat. “The Vindicaar. You were seriously hurt. I had to bring you back.” He tilts his head slightly. “How do you feel?”

Taveth presses one hand to his shoulder, then lays back and presses his other palm to his forehead. “That hangover I had the other day…this is worse.” He groans. “How about you?”

Grimory chuckles. “I’m fine.” He blinks in realization, then gestures to the man beside him. “Oh. This is Eophen. He engineers the ship.”

Eophen gives a reserved smile and waves with his injured hand. “Greetings, elf. Bit off more than you can chew, did you?”

Taveth cocks his head to look at the draenei. “Well met. I, um, got separated from my group and apparently went the wrong way.” He gives Grimory a nervous smile. “I would’ve died if you hadn’t found me.”

Grimory furrows his brow and glances from the draenei to the high elf. “Thal came and got me,” he says. “And sorry you got separated. That’s our fault.”

Eophen chuckles and sets a hand on Grimory’s shoulder. <<Keep an eye on this one. I like his face.>> He turns for the door and gives a curt wave. “I will see you elves around.”

Taveth’s entire face floods red and his eyes round. “H-heh. Y-yeah. See you around?” He turns his wide eyes on Grimory. “What does that mean, he likes my face?”

Grimory gives a sort of smile and chuckles. “He thinks you’re cute, I imagine.”

Taveth purses his lips and sits up to watch the draenei leave. “Doubtful.” He sighs and lies back again. “How long did they say I have to wait here? Where is my satchel?” He sits suddenly upright and completely blacks out, slumping to one side of the cot and threatening to tumble over.

Grimory glances behind him. “I grabbed it before—_woah, hey!_” He grabs Taveth by his shoulders before he can fall. Sighing, he readjusts the elf and sets him back onto the pillow. “Dumbass,” he mutters with a grin and a shake of his head.

Taveth opens his eyes to narrowed slits. “Name-calling is hardly necessary.” He clears his throat. “I asked a question… Oh, yes, satchel… Dagger?” He opens his eyes wide, but mentally forces himself to stay down.

Grimory rolls his eyes and stands to retrieve the bag he’d set near the door. “Here.” He hands it over and hesitates. “And…sorry. For leaving you behind.”

Taveth sits up slowly and pulls out a journal from his bag. “It was an honest mistake. My fault, really.” He gives the demon hunter a kind smile, then flips to a new page and unscrews the cap to his pen. He sets to work sketching out a pit lord with a figure shaped like a man to demonstrate the demon’s size.

Grimory watches him draw and sighs. “If you say so. I’m going to grab something to eat; do you need anything?”

Taveth looks up as though broken from a spell. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Ah, juice, I believe would be a good cure for my injury hangover. Any food is entirely up to you. Thank you.” He reaches into his bag and screams out, then withdraws his hand, the tips of his fingers beginning to bleed. “_Fabulous._”

Grimory stares at the man, unimpressed, for a long beat and turns to rummage through a cupboard feet away. He returns with a roll of gauze and grabs Taveth’s hand. He wraps each fingertip individually and tosses the gauze beside his bed, on the floor. He straightens and wordlessly leaves for the kitchens.

Taveth stares at his bandaged fingers for a moment after the demon hunter is gone. He sighs and dumps his bag on the bed, then puts his face in his hands as the wire frames of his glasses are empty and shards of glass are sprinkled around his things.

Grimory returns with a carafe of juice, an ivory cup, a dark bottle of ale, and some strips of questionable meat and bread. He _tsk_s thorough the ration in his mouth. “A lot good your studying will do if you can’t read, yeah?” He hands over the carafe and cup. “Want me to see if someone here can fix them?”

Taveth picks up his belongings, carefully avoiding the glass shards. “I’m nearly positive they’re unfixable. I’ll have to stop in Stormwind to get new ones.” He purses his lips at the spinal dagger. “Would you mind? I really don’t feel like dealing with _him_ right now.” He pours a drink and sips on it as he shoves everything else back into the bag with the other hand.

Grimory picks up the broken shards of glass to toss in the bin of other various medical waste. He takes the dagger and angry whispers from a familiar voice immediately flood is head. He tosses it into the satchel and narrows his eyes. “Such an asshole.” He sighs. “Perhaps you should go back, Tav. This is no place for you.”

~ * ~

Anarchaia’s hand tightens around Alisbeth’s as hard as possible and she grits her teeth to the point her jaw creaks. She stumbles forward, off the platform, and catches her footing. Her stomach turns again and she wrenches her hand away to place over her mouth. _Oh gods. She’s trying to kill me._

The death knight grins, gritting her teeth against the agony. “See? Wasn’t that fun?” she asks painfully.

Koltira squeezes the mage’s hand and stares at Alisbeth. “Ali, is there a reason you wanted to take the Beacon?”

“Because it’s fun! Aqua doesn’t need to summon portals just for you and me. I’m fine with the meat grinder.” She pats Anarchaia on the head and skips out of the small side room they’d appeared in.

Anarchaia releases her held breath when Alisbeth is safely out of earshot. She groans. “What did I do to deserve this?” With a hand, she holds her forehead. _She’s acting strangely._ “I need a drink, Koltira. I need a lot of drinks.”

Koltira nods and wraps an arm over her shoulders. “That sounds like a great plan. Let’s see what they have on this little space ship, shall we?”

Anarchaia nods. She inquiries a passing shipmate bound in glowing gold armor and the man shakes his head. <<No alcohol here, little girl,>> he says on a laugh and continues his way up the steps.

Anarchaia sneers after him. “_Little girl?_” She purses her lips. “I guess we’ll have to go back home. Unless I can get my hands on some of the fuel this thing runs on.”

Koltira laughs and gives her a small shake. “I bet it’s fueled on Light. I’m not too keen on drinking that, but if you really want, I won’t stop you.”

Anarchaia scrunches her nose at the word _Light_ and shakes her head.

Alisbeth runs down the stairs after spotting the two blond elves from above. She dives at Taveth and squeals. “You’re okay!”

They topple over onto the floor. Juice spills everywhere and Taveth groans. The nurse stomps in and pinches her lips at the death knight.

“This is a hospital, not a tavern!”

Taveth smiles as kindly as he can. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

Grimory’s eyes widen and he has to lean away to not be struck by the mass of flying armor and squealing. “Ali, he needs to recover,” he scolds and stands to grab the carafe and now empty cup.

Alisbeth lowers her head in shame. “Sorry.” She rights the cot and drags Taveth back on. “Better?”

Taveth pulls out his hair tie and purses his lips. “Aside from being manhandled, yes. I should, hopefully, survive.”

Anarchaia opens her mouth, then notices the other three past the archway into the infirmary. “Oh, Taveth,” she says as she approaches. “How are you feeling? What happened?”

“We left him behind,” Grimory grumbles and sits back, folding his arms over his chest.

Koltira’s brow furrows. “What? How? What happened? There was so much blood and this floating demon skull—”

“I wanted to keep it. Or kill it.” Alisbeth’s eyes light up, “Or keep it and do stuff to it and _then_ kill it!”

Taveth holds up his hands for them to calm down. “There was that fel reaver. It got too close and I had to hide. By the time I reached the pits, I wasn’t sure where you’d all gone. I was chased by a few sorceresses into the pit lord. He wasn’t pleased, and now I’m here. It really was my fault.”

Anarchaia frowns. “Oh my gods, we’re so sorry,” she groans. “We really should have made sure you were with us. It’s not your fault.” She sighs. “Are you all right, now? Can we get anything for you? Koltira and I were heading back to Dalaran; perhaps we can get you something?”

“Back to Dalaran? What for?” Grimory says, craning his head back to look at the two.

Taveth nods. “Yes, I need to pop to Stormwind and get a new pair of glasses.” He lifts the mangled frames and dumps them into the trash with the rest.

Anarchaia lifts a hand to stop him but the frames are already in the trash. “I could have fixed them if you have all the pieces…”

Taveth frowns. “Oh… Well, you can dig through the medical refuse if you really want to. I’m not particularly inclined to.”

Anarchaia sneers and hugs herself at the thought. “Yeah, no.”

Koltira regards the demon hunter with a tired smile. “We could really use a drink. Care to join?”

“Oh! Me! Pick me!” Alisbeth jumps to her feet, a hand in the air.

Grimory stretches. Illidan’s words echo through his head and he resists a scowl. “Yeah, actually. I do.” He smiles at Alisbeth and holds out a hand. “Peppermint whiskey?”

Alisbeth takes his hand and grins. “And cinnamon and dalapeño?” She pulls herself against him. “Lead the way!”

Grimory nods at Alisbeth and leads her from the room. “There’s a portal downstairs, so Ana doesn’t have to lift a dainty finger.”

The mage scowls after him. “I couldn’t right now anyway, apparently.” She takes Koltira’s hand and follows, then stops and waits for Taveth. “O-oh. Don’t want to leave you behind again. Heh.”

Taveth blushes. “Oh. Heh. Be right there.” He collects his things and throws his satchel over his back. When he catches up, he stops. “Answer me honestly, is my shirt torn?” He turns his back to the mage.

Anarchaia chuckles and reaches out to push the edges of the torn hole together. The seam seals itself as she runs a finger down it. “Nope!” she chirps and pushes him forward. Once in the hallway, she catches the eye of her teacher and her smile fades as he gestures for her to go to him. She sets a hand on Koltira’s arm. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Grimory raises a hand to usher Alisbeth into the portal. “Ladies first,” he says with a coy grin.

Alisbeth goes up on her toes to kiss Grimory’s cheek, then dives into the swirling image of Dalaran.

Taveth pauses and frowns at Khadgar, but Koltira pushes him forward. “Go. I’ll wait for her, you go get your glasses.”

“Heh. Right. Okay.” He steps through and immediately heads for the Enclave, waving at Alisbeth as he passes.

Koltira folds his arms and leans a hip against a nearby crate. A gnome positioned atop one eyes him, then goes back to reading his scroll.

“Your message,” Khadgar says when his apprentice approaches.

“It’s true. He and Alleria both,” she responds, unable to keep the quiet tone out of her voice. She avoids his gaze but keeps her masked face toward him. “They should be here soon, actually. Perhaps you can all reminisce.”

“I had my suspicions. Thank you.” He clears his throat and shifts. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment of silence. “For raising my voice.”

“It’s okay. I deserved it,” she responds coolly and turns. “Enjoy your time with your friends.”

Khadgar furrows his brow as he’s blown off. “You, as well,” he mutters and returns to conversing with a helmed elf mage.

Anarchaia grabs Koltira’s hand and forces a smile. “Come.”

“Where to?” Grimory says once the group has gathered. “I’d assume Arille is tired of our faces. I think we’ve made a permanent indent in those couches in the corner.”

Alisbeth frowns. “What’s wrong with the Leggingsfur Lounge? I like it there. And Ariel is nice.”

Grimory hums in thought. “There’s another tavern in an alley near the enclave but not actually in it. I hear they have dart boards and a shuffleboard. Been wanting to check it out, actually.”

“I think I know the one,” Anarchaia adds. “By the winery.”


	6. Chapter 6

Taveth enters the jeweler’s shop in Stormwind, smiling as the draenei behind the counter leans forward in excitement.

“Tavy,” she beams, “what brings you to my shop so soon?”

He blushes. “I broke my last pair of glasses.”

She giggles. “You had five pairs, you clumsy elf.” She goes through her stash of frames and frowns. “I’m out of your usual frame. Put these on.” She shoves a pair of narrow rectangular frames on his nose, then squeals. “You look precious!” She takes the frames and begins cutting the lenses. “It will be just a moment. I’ll make extras, of course.” She winks over her shoulder.

Taveth folds his arms and leans against the wall to wait. An elven man enters, hair like straw and a goatee on his chin. He sighs down at Taveth and folds his own arms.

“Weren’t even going to come and say hello?”

Taveth frowns. “I-I was. Heh. After I got new glasses.”

“Can you _afford_ new glasses?”

Taveth stares at his feet as the jeweler spins to smile at the man. “It’s okay, Mr. Nightheart, I can take payments.”

Falren sighs at his son. “Speaking of paying for things, since you’re in Dalaran for the foreseeable future, I’m putting you in the tavern I’ve just acquired in that floating city.”

Taveth’s jaw slacks in disbelief. “Father, my orders have me on _Antorus_ now! I can’t man a tavern in Dalaran!”

Falren shrugs. “Four nights a week, minimum. Ervaen will be up there, too.”

Taveth purses his lips. “And if I don’t? Will you fire me?” he asks, almost hoping for a yes.

Falren laughs. “Of course not! Just dock your pay. Remember, big brother is watching.” He winks and ruffles Taveth’s hair. “Tell my niece I miss her.”

Taveth nods and his father leaves.

The jeweler grins and sets three new pairs of glasses on the counter. “As I said, I’ll accept payments.”

Taveth holds up a hand. “No need.” He withdraws a small stone with a lion’s head engraved on it, the lines painted in with gold.

The jeweler gasps and shoves the spectacles to him, her mouth gaping for words.

He scoops up the items, bows, and leaves to return to Dalaran. Once in the city, he tracks down the tavern and enters, pausing as he spots a familiar face—Thassarian hunched over a stein at the bar.

Taveth sits in the stool beside the death knight and smiles. “I see you’ve already heard the news?”

Thassarian grunts a short laugh. “When do you get back there to make me a real drink?”

Taveth cringes. “Not soon, I hope.”

A quiet chuckle rings throughout the small group as they step into the tavern. “Needless to say, he wouldn’t go near that cabbage patch ever again,” Grimory laughs with a shrug.

Anarchaia lowers a brow but smiles all the same. “If it’s needless to say, you don’t have to say it.” She perks. “Oh, it’s Taveth. And Thassarian.”

Alisbeth runs up to Taveth and grabs him in a hug. “Hi Tav!”

Thassarian turns and grabs Alisbeth in a hug, his arms encompassing both elves. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Ali.”

She giggles and puts an arm over his shoulders. “You better be buying me a drink if you’re using that line on me.”

Grimory folds his arms and ignores the flare of jealousy within him, keeping calm as though he doesn’t notice. “Nice seeing you again. How’re things?”

Koltira practically punches Thassarian on the back, making the human lurch forward. “You joining us for some drinks, then?”

Alisbeth pokes out her lower lips. “Oh, please do.”

Thassarian throws up his hands. “Everyone stop talking at once! I’m fine, thank you for asking. And I’ll join you if someone else is paying.”

Koltira barks a laugh. “Of course you’d say that.”

Anarchaia steps to the bar beside the group and gestures to a bottle of sweet red wine when asked what she’d like. She sets gold on the counter and smiles at Taveth. “Did you get your new glasses?”

Taveth gets himself untangled from the other two and nods. “Yes. Not the same frames, but…they’ll do.”

The cork pops from her bottle and Anarchaia pushes up her mask to give Taveth a wide grin. “Show me!”

Taveth smiles and takes out a pair of glasses. “Estelfir says they look good on me. She’s never been wrong before, so I’m inclined to believe her.”

Anarchaia snatches the glasses from the elf’s hand and shoves them onto his face. She grins and squishes his cheeks between her palms. “Ohmigods you look _adorable_.”

Taveth’s eyes shift side to side before settling on the mage. “Uh…fanks?”

Grimory chuckles and shakes his head as he lifts a finger for a glass of whiskey. “I don’t volunteer.” He takes a long drink, ignoring the burn. “Cards? Loser buys?”

Thassarian tries to untangle himself from the excited death knight, but to no avail. He deflates and nods to Grimory. “Cards sounds excellent. Get your woman off me, please.”

Koltira snerks. “I dunno, she seems quite comfortable there.”

The Illidari chuckles again and merely strides to sit at a long table. He digs through the basket of chips, chess pieces, and cribbage pegs and pulls out a deck of cards. “Ali. Come sit. I’ll get you a drink.”

Alisbeth squeals her way across the room and leaps onto Grimory’s lap. “Yay, drinks!”

Koltira takes a seat beside Thassarian after ordering a scotch. “Haven’t seen you since the separation party.” He looks back at the mage, trying to get her attention. “You were completely trashed.”

The demon hunter orders a bottle of whiskey along with fresh cinnamon sticks and cuts the cards. “I wasn’t there for the tail end. How did that go?”

Anarchaia catches the death knight’s eye and releases Taveth to grab her wine. “Come.” She sweeps over to settle beside Koltira and smirks at Thassarian. “So…”

Taveth takes the last open spot between Thassarian and Grimory.

The death knight looks to Anarchaia and cocks an eyebrow. “So… What?”

Koltira smirks. “How was your night?”

“Eh?”

“The last night we were all together like this.” She beams. “How was your morning? Have a hangover or…any other lingering memories?”

Thassarian’s brow lowers as he looks between the two. “It was you two, wasn’t it?”

Koltira laughs and slaps his friend’s back. “Thought you’d enjoy the present.”

“You made me think I fucked a _troll_, how is that a present?”

Alisbeth squeals. “You pranked him with a _troll?_ And didn’t invite _me?_”

Grimory glances at the man beside him. “Nice glasses.”

Taveth blushes and takes the glasses off his nose. “Heh. Right.”

“You two were busy with…drama,” Anarchaia says, motioning to Alisbeth and Grimory with her bottle and takes a sip. _Over a child you aren’t even spending time with._ She chuckles at Thassarian. “Juliember isn’t that bad. Surely you didn’t kick her out?”

Thassarian cocks an eyebrow. “Is that her name? All I heard was nonsense. Damned troll speak.”

Koltira grins. “Yes, but _did you kick her out?_”

Thassarian sets down his mug and angles his whole body leaning away from Koltira. “I’m not a complete heathen…I let her dress first.”

Anarchaia’s mouth slowly drops open and she laughs. “You slept with her!”

Thassarian bristles and purses his lips at the mage. “That _woman_ would break my bones! She damn near tried!”

A hand sets itself on Taveth’s shoulder. “So, father roped you into this, then?” Ervaen gives a quiet laugh. “Didn’t take much convincing I imagine.”

Taveth leans back in his seat to look up at his eldest brother. “Actually, I said no.”

Ervaen’s smile widens. “Yet here you are.” He glances across the demon hunter at his cousin. His eyes widen some and his smile falters. “A-…Alisbeth?”

Alisbeth climbs over Grimory, a grin on her face as she leaps at her cousin. “Ervy!” She giggles and wraps herself around him. “I missed you!”

Taveth smirks and cocks an eyebrow. “Father didn’t tell you? I thought he would’ve when I went to get the letter proving Diori’s parentage.” He takes Anarchaia’s bottle and drinks from it, then hands it back with a smile, vaguely noting the conversation the others are having. “I’m here because I wasn’t given the option of quitting. Four nights a week. Will you fire me if I shirk my duties here while I’m on another world, saving ours?”

Anarchaia eyes Taveth as he hands the bottle back. “You’re lucky I like you,” she warns with a smile and takes a drink as well. She turns back to Thassarian. “So, I imagine Juliember will tell the same tale?”

Grimory throws cards before each of the occupants at the table.

Thassarian gives Anarchaia a stern look. “If she doesn’t, she’s lying.” He looks over his cards, rearranging them in his hand.

Anarchaia gives Thassarian a coy grin. “Hm. She doesn’t seem like one to lie. She clearly has no shame and thus nothing to hide.” She slides a card around, face down, with her finger and rests her chin on the back of a hand.

“He did,” Ervaen says, hugging Alisbeth tightly. “I didn’t believe it. But now I’ve seen. As for your _work_…” He sighs. “I…suppose what father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. But the fall goes on you if he finds out.” He pulls away to give Alisbeth a tired smile. “So, how are you? How’ve you been?”

Alisbeth grins wider, her eyes brightening. “I’ve been so great! But also not great. There were also really, really, _really_ bad times, like when I was locked in my room, but I deserved it, they said. But I’ve been really great! And I got to meet Diori! She looks just like Grim and I’m kind of sad because I’m dead and they’re not so I don’t get to do alive things with them, like eating. But that’s okay, because we go to the archery range and avoid shooting asses. But how are you? You look so old! You have a _beard!_ It makes you look like uncle.” She laughs and hugs him again. “I missed you! Am I too big to ride on your shoulders anymore?”

Taveth chuckles into his fist as he meets Koltira’s eye, who is laughing as well at Alisbeth’s assault of her cousin.

Ervaen smiles and waits patiently for her to finish. “I’ve missed you, too.” He sets her back down in her seat. “And I’d say you’re just a bit too big for my shoulders, now.” His smile fades some as his brain processes the mess of information. “Grim?”

The demon hunter looks up as though he hasn’t been paying attention. “Hm?”

Ervaen’s brow furrows slightly at the strangely familiar face looking up at him. He pulls his ears back. “You… She looks just like you.”

“Oh.” Grimory smiles some at the fond thought of his daughter. “Could be worse, yeah?”

Thassarian cocks an eyebrow at the mage. “You’re acting like I’ve something to hide.”

Koltira gives Anarchaia a pointed look. <<Is it just me or is his poker face totally shit?>> he asks in Gutterspeak.

Alisbeth giggles. “I’m not too big for Grim’s shoulders!” She jumps like something bit her and leans across to wave at the others. “Guys! Guys! This is my cousin Ervaen!”

Anarchaia titters. <<He’s definitely hiding something.>> The mage blinks and looks up. “O-oh! Hello! A pleasure. I’m Anarchaia.” She leans across the table with an arm outstretched.

Ervaen’s ears prick at the name. “Oh. Kel’ori’s mentioned you before.” He takes her hand and shakes, choosing to not say more. “Charmed.”

Taveth smirks. “All lies, I’m sure.”

The corner of Anarchaia’s mouth twitches and she sits back down.

Koltira gives an odd, forced, small smile. “Koltira. Deathweaver.” He goes back to his cards, trying not to appear as awkward as he feels meeting—and hearing about—his ex-wife’s cousin for the first time.

“I already know Ervaen. Pours a good tap, but can’t mix worth shit.” He barks a laugh and pats Taveth on the back. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

Taveth coughs and drops his cards, then scoops them up. “I’ve really no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ervaen gives a quiet, reserved chuckle. “We all have our strong suits. I’m an ale man while Taveth is a liqueur man.”

Grimory throws ten gold into the center of the table. “He’s really more of a juice man.”

Thassarian follows Grimory’s bet. “Call. Juice? Not from my experience. Kid’s practically an alchemist!”

“I’m older than you,” Taveth mutters. He reaches into his pack for his humble gold pouch. The back of his hand brushes against the spine dagger just long enough for a flicker of a flame to appear beside Ervaen’s head, then disappear.

<<Fold! _Idiot!_>> Thal’kiel yells in his brief appearance.

“Not what I meant,” Grimory mumbles and flips a card when the others call his bet.

Taveth’s face falls and he coughs, setting the pouch on the table, but turning his cards over and sliding them to the center of the table. “I fold.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes and leaps at Ervaen, trying to catch the flames before they touch him. Her eyes narrow further as they disappear.

“So,” Koltira begins, taking a drink of his whiskey, “Thass, anyone new in your life?”

Thassarian narrows his eyes. “Not really?”

The bearded elf perks at the fluttering of flames behind him and turns to look, but stumbles as Alisbeth tackles him. He laughs. “I’ll leave you lot to your little card game.” He again sets Alisbeth in her spot. “And I’ll do my best to avoid mixing your drinks, Thass.” He regards the human with a grin.

The death knight laughs and reaches up to pat Ervaen on the shoulder. “Good man, good man.”

Taveth smiles up at his brother. “I’ll see you later. Of course.”

Alisbeth leans into Grimory, partly cuddling up to him and partly looking at his cards. She not-so-sneakily reaches to her cards and sets two down as the mage had done. “I don’t want those ones, kay?”

Thassarian cocks his eyebrow and his eyes widen on Grimory. “Oh. _Oh._” He glances at Taveth, then back to the demon hunter. “You know from experience?” He winks at him.

Anarchaia takes a long drink from her bottle and ups the bet when it’s her turn. She leans close to Koltira and smiles. <<Maybe we should go get her.>>

Koltira leans closer to the mage. <<Are you trying to out them, or get them to hook up?>>

“That’s not how this game works, Ali,” Grimory says with a smile and puts the cards back into Alisbeth’s hand. “You either call or fold, yeah?” His ear flicks as he turns to Thassarian. His lids lower to a bemused stare. “From experience with being in his presence for more than five seconds.”

Anarchaia’s smile widens some and she leans even closer. <<Both?>>

Taveth shrinks in his chair and stares between the two men. “It’s rude to talk about someone when they’re sitting right there,” he mumbles.

Koltira finishes his drink and smiles. <<I like the way you think.>> He plants a quick kiss on her lips, then sits slightly straighter.

Thassarian groans. “If you two are going to start in on that romantic nonsense, I’m going to throw you out myself.”

Grimory looks down at Taveth and smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “I’d say it’s more rude to talk about someone when they _aren’t_ sitting right there. No offense meant.”

Anarchaia tilts her head just enough to look at Thassarian from the corner of her eye. <<I think he’s jealous. Perhaps lonely. >> She chortles, bites her lip, and runs a palm across Koltira’s thigh, still looking at the human. “No need. It wouldn’t take much convincing.”

The tips of Taveth’s ears turn pink, but he continues to frown. “Still rude.”

Koltira laughs. “Are you jealous?” he asks the other death knight.

Thassarian glares between them, then grins. “Why, yes, I am.” He grabs Koltira into an uncomfortable hug, smashing the elf’s back to his chest. “I sure missed my Kolty-wolty.”

“Oh, gods. Get off me.” Koltira flails, but is unsuccessful in breaking free.

“But I thought you liked _cuddles_,” Thassarian says through puckered lips.

“No. No. This is not cuddles, this is assault.” He slaps at the other death knight’s head.

Anarchaia sips her wine, then giggles into the back of her hand while she swallows. “If you keep it up I’ll be forced to fight you for him.”

Thassarian frees Koltira and laughs. “That’s fine, you can have him. I’d rather have a book worm.” He grins down at Taveth, who shrinks further into his seat.

“Right now?” Taveth hisses, slightly annoyed.

Koltira narrows his eyes between the two. “Uhh…”

Grimory drums his fingers on the table as he waits for the others to take their turns. He downs his drink and grins at Alisbeth. “Be a doll?” he says, holding up the cup and gesturing to the bottle beside her.

Alisbeth takes the glass and sets it on the other side of her beside the bottle. “_Doll?_”

Grimory lifts his brows, slightly taken aback. “Yeah. Doll. Cute. Pretty. Porcelain skin.” He pokes her cheek. “What would you rather be called?”

Alisbeth drinks from the bottle and thinks on it. “Redblade the Destroyer!” she shouts, lifting the bottle over her head. She sloshes some from the bottle into his glass and slides it back with a grin. “There you go, _doll_.”

Anarchaia restrains a laugh and sets a knuckle to the wood to signify her check. She sets her temple against Koltira’s pauldron, avoiding the spikes. “Never mind. I guess he’s not lonely.” She drinks. “You want another?”

Koltira raises by five gold. “I would, thank you.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Thassarian meets Koltira’s bet without taking his eyes off the cowering elf. “Please.”

Taveth scoffs and gets up, rolling up his sleeves. “_Fine._” He goes to the bar and slips behind, giving a small nod to Ervaen before setting to work with several liquor bottles.

Anarchaia takes his empty glass and hikes up her robes to throw her legs over the bench and stand. She makes her way to the bar and sets it down. “Mind filing this with scotch?” she croons to Taveth, elbows on the counter.

Grimory chuckles and takes the messy glass all the same. “Thank you, _Ms. Destroyer_.” He drinks and flips the last card, then raises the ante by another ten gold.

Taveth finishes his gentle pouring of a creamy white liquor into a square glass, then takes the scotch glass. “Yeah. Any idea which year he got?”

Koltira calls the bet, his eyes on the mage across the room.

Thassarian also calls and shoves an elbow into the man. “Afraid she’s going to wander away?”

Koltira laughs. “I wouldn’t blame her.”

Grimory scoffs. “Are you kidding? That woman is always at your heels.” He smirks. “Though if you aren’t careful…”

Anarchaia fidgets and again hikes her robes up to tie them at her hip. She conjures a large handful of gold coins and sets them on the counter. “Since Ali paid off a lot of my debt, I’ve actually had some spending money. Heh. What’s the best you’ve got?”

Taveth grins and takes a portion of the gold. He hands it off to Ervaen, they spin around each other flawlessly in the small space, as though having worked together before. The younger elf takes a bottle from the shelf and they slide past each other again.

“This ought to do it.” He pours the drink with a small amount of flair, then catches himself and returns to just pouring it naturally. He sets the bottle where his brother can get it, smiles at the mage, then carefully returns to the square glass, this time pouring a red liquid inside.

Thassarian cocks an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Koltira lowers his brow at Grimory. “No.”

Alisbeth bites her lower lip and sips at the bottle in her hands. _He wants the mage._ She shakes her head at the voice. _We should probably get rid of her…just in case. I mean, she did react strangely to the Light._ Alisbeth holds the whiskey in her mouth for a long time, letting the warmth of it cause her tongue to tingle.

Anarchaia watches, eyebrows raised in interest. She whistles and takes the glass. “Impressive. If I hadn’t ordered an entire bottle of wine I’d ask for a drink. How long have you both been doing this for?”

“A long time,” Ervaen says with a smile as he angles a stein while pouring from a tap.

Grimory shrugs. “I’m just saying. If you two do have some sort of…_falling out_, remember who’ll be there to pick up the pieces.” He swirls his whiskey.

Alisbeth swallows and squeezes the bottle tighter, until her knuckles are even whiter from the pressure.

Taveth chuckles. “Nothing wrong with a drink later, hmm? You can try my specialty.” He uses a small pair of tongs to fish a worm from a jar of liquor so potent it makes him cringe. He wraps it around a glass toothpick and carefully puts it in the glass, then holds it up for the mage to see the layered effect of two red liquids with the white in between. “I call it the bookworm, because, well…heh.” He slips out the side of the bar and holds out an elbow to her. “Walk you back?”

Anarchaia wrinkles her nose at the worm and laughs. “Hold the nightcrawler and perhaps I’ll try it.” She grabs the scotch and hooks her arm through his. “Such a gentleman.” She sets Koltira’s drink before him and takes up her seat again. “Oh? Is the round over?” She flips her cards and sips her wine.

Taveth sets the drink in front of Thassarian, who gives a gleeful _Ha!_ and immediately lifts it to drink. “Quickest way to get drunk, right here.”

Grimory glances over at the woman beside him. He tilts his head. “Ali? Are you okay?”

Alisbeth purses her lips tight, then turns a wide-eyed Cheshire grin on the demon hunter. “I’m fine! Why do you ask?” A weak spot forms in the glass and it splinters up one side before exploding, sending shards of glass and splatters of whiskey all over her. She gives a small giggle, her hand still shaped like she’s clutching something. She doesn’t even hint that she’s aware of having glass and drink all over her.

Koltira’s eyes widen on Alisbeth and Grimory. “Everything okay, there?”

Thassarian chortles into his glass. “Trouble in paradise. See, the key is to not actually care about the other one. It also helps if you can’t talk to them. Keeps it simple.”

Anarchaia flinches at the sound of shattering glass and hums a long, hesitant note into her bottle.

Grimory shoots Thassarian a look as he quickly sets to picking up the shards of glass. “Okay, seriously,” he whispers to Alisbeth as he leans over to brush the glass from her glove. “What’s wrong?”

The mage sets her bottle down to lift a hand. The pieces assemble themselves together once again.

Alisbeth stares at the reformed bottle, then at Grimory. “Oh, look, she picked up the pieces _by herself_. Heh-heh. Ha!” She forces a laugh.

Koltira flips his cards, not paying attention to the game. He leans close to the mage. <<I wonder how long until Grim gets the Maw in _his_ chest?>>

Anarchaia turns to Koltira with similar concern in her eyes. <<What? Why would she do that? What happened?>>

Grimory looks up into Alisbeth’s face, brow knit in confusion and concern. He stands. “Can we talk?” he asks in a hushed tone.

Still grinning maniacally, Alisbeth stands abruptly. “I think I need a new outfit.” She spins around and leaves the tavern without waiting for the demon hunter.

Taveth cringes. “Well, this is…”

Thassarian laughs. “She’s such a firecracker. It’s always the feisty ones that getcha, even if you don’t wanna be got.” He leans his cheek on a fist, his elbow on the table, already beginning to feel the effects of eating the nightcrawler.


	7. Chapter 7

Grimory follows with little hesitation. “Ali, wait!”

Alisbeth stops and spins around to grab Grimory by the horn and yank on it. “Why don’t you like me?” she demands, her expression a mixture of anger and sadness.

Grimory grits his teeth at the pain. “What?! Ali, I _do_ like you! When have I said I haven’t?!”

Alisbeth frowns as tears come to her eyes. “Why do you want Appalachian? You said, ‘who would be there to pick up the pieces?’ And that means you. And that means you want her and not me.” She releases his horn to wipe her eyes as though angry that tears are there.

Grimory’s eyes widen some and he grabs for her arms. “No no, don’t cry. Please.” He hisses, then sighs, running a hand over his hair. “Ali, I wasn’t talking about _me_. I don’t want her. I meant that old man she’s always around.”

Alisbeth drops her hands and gives a sigh of defeat. “Why didn’t you just _say_ that?” She wraps her arms around him and kisses where his horn connects. “Sorry I hurt you.”

He smiles at the kiss. “It’s okay.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek, then smirks after a second. “You wanna go back and play cards? Or…?”

“You were having fun with cards. Go. I’m going to change and I’ll be right back, okay?” Alisbeth backs away and waves him to go inside.

Grimory blinks. “Oh. Uh. Okay, then. Be safe, yeah?” He pushes her hair out of her face and turns back toward the tavern.

~ * ~

Koltira cringes. <<He implied that when I fuck up you’ll run to him for comfort.>>

Anarchaia scoffs and makes a face. <<_Him?_ As if.>> She takes a drink, then pauses. <<Wait, _when_?>> She _tsk_s and gives him a reassuring smile. <<Any hardships we’ve crossed have been my fault thus far. If anyone should be running, it’d be you.>>

Koltira chuckles and hugs the mage to his side. <<You really think you can deal with my moping and general grumpiness forever?>> He looks around at the cards and smiles. “Hey, look at that. The round is yours.” He slides the gold at the center of the table toward her.

Thassarian grunts and gathers the cards up and shuffles, then begins dealing around the table, even to those not present. “So, how about ano—”

“One per day, you know the rule,” Taveth says, eyeing his cards.

The death knight _hrumphs_ and sets down the deck, then lays out three cards on the table.

Anarchaia stacks her gold pieces in neat towers. “Only if you can deal with my insecurity and bouts of depression that stem from it.” She pauses, realizing she’d spoken in Common, then goes back to her towers when she sees the others not paying attention. She clears her throat. <<I have a plan.>>

Koltira smirks and takes her hand. <<Is your plan to be self deprecating together for the rest of our undead lives? If so, I’m in.>>

Taveth blinks at them. “That is so weirdly romantic, I’m not sure if I should be disturbed or comforted by it.”

“Hmm? What? What’ve I missed?” Thassarian asks, looking up from his cards and setting ten gold on the table for his buy-in.

<<I guess our negative energies cancel each other out.>> She smiles, then flushes at Taveth’s words. “Nothing,” she says to Thassarian and tosses ten gold into the pile as well. “I’ll be right back. Play for me, okay?” The mage places a kiss on the side of Koltira’s head as she stands and weaves her way through patrons and into the adjoining lounge.

Taveth cocks an eyebrow as he and Koltira buy into the game. “Where’s she going?”

Koltira hides a smirk. “I’m not sure. Didn’t stop to ask.”

Anarchaia finds a druid woman hiding with a group in a corner. “Excuse me. You’re a druid, yes? I’m looking for a friend of mine. Juliember. Would you mind letting her know my friends and I are waiting for her at a table near the front?” She smiles when the tauren stands and nods. “Thanks so much!” The mage trots back to her seat and sits, then takes a long drink. “What’s the bet up to?” She takes her cards back.

Koltira looks at the pile. “We all just bought in, no raises. Just waiting on if we should fold those other two.” He leans closer to the mage. <<Everything settled?>>

Grimory takes up his seat and his cards. “Oh, you didn’t forget about me.” He chuckles and tosses in the ante. “Thanks.” He takes Alisbeth’s cards and throws them in the burn pile.

Anarchaia nods and bites her lip in a failed attempt to hide her smile.

Not a moment later, a familiar blue figure steps up to the table, a green braid slung over her shoulder and tusks jutting from her lips. She sets a hand on Anarchaia’s shoulder. <<Finally decide to accept my offer, small mage?>> she says in Orcish with the faintest of smiles.

Koltira smiles up at the troll. “Hey, Jules—iember. Hi Juliember.”

She punches his arm. <<That’s one.>>

Taveth eyes Thassarian as he gives all of his concentration to his cards and the stein in front of him.

Juliember’s eyes light mischievously. <<Oh! The _human_.>> She sits in Alisbeth’s seat and leans an elbow on the table. <<Does he say nice things of me?>> She laughs.

Anarchaia chuckles into her fingers and ups the bet five gold. <<Afraid not. I think he’s forgotten what a good time you both had.>>

Thassarian furrows his brow and purses his lips behind his beard. “What is it? What are they saying?” he grumbles to the high elf beside him, knowing Taveth to be a neutral party.

Juliember laughs low into her fingertips, her eyes on the death knight. <<Oh, yes. Lots of yelling.>>

Taveth cocks an eyebrow. “Eh-heh. Ana is speaking of a good time you had together and Juliember says there was lots of yelling?” He laughs, remembering. “Oh, the prank?”

Koltira’s eyes widen and he waves his hand at Taveth, hinting to keep quiet about it being a prank.

Anarchaia gives a laugh. <<Yelling? Is that all?>>

Thassarian narrows his eyes and stirs a bit in his seat. “Tell her she’s lucky that’s all there was.”

Grimory drinks the last drops from his and Alisbeth’s reassembled bottle of whiskey and flips over the first card on the board.

“Grim, that probably has particles of glass in it, still,” Anarchaia warns with concern in her voice.

The demon hunter shrugs after a second. “If I die, I’ll be back.”

She narrows her eyes, then shakes her head.

Taveth translates the message to the troll and she laughs, the faintest blush flickering into her cheeks, then leaving just as fast. <<He wishes it was more. He couldn’t handle me, I would break his bones, then mend them only to break them again. Brittle little human.>> She winks at Thassarian. <<Tell him what I said, little elf.>>

Taveth blushes. “Um, I-I—”

<<As easy as I could snap him, I’d crush you twice as hard.>>

Taveth turns bright red, his eyes wide. “Uh. Excuse me. I have to left my get— Excuse me.” He heads to the bar to beg a drink from his brother.

Grimory waves his bottle after him. “Another, if you’d be so kind.”

Anarchaia turns to the human. “She says the two of you had quite the night and would love a second opportunity.”

Thassarian’s already lavender cheeks darken and he bristles. “Well tell her she’s full of shit and it’d never happen.” He brings his drink to his lips and mumbles “It wasn’t the entire night.”

Anarchaia’s grin widens and she looks at Juliember. <<He said he’d love the chance.>>

Juliember laughs outright and sets a hand on Anarchaia’s shoulder. <<I know that was a lie. It’s okay, though. Doesn’t hurt my feelings if a weak little man can’t handle a real woman.>> She grins at Thassarian and urges his stein from him to drink from it.

Alisbeth returns to the tavern, wearing a clean set of clothes and armor. She squeals and runs at the table, then dives into Juliember’s lap. “Juniper!” She hugs her tight, one arm waving to get Grimory’s attention. “Look! Look! It’s Jiridamudor! Think she’ll let me ride her again?”

Koltira remains quiet, listening to the banter lost in translation, a humorous smile teasing his lips.

Thassarian narrows his eyes and reaches forward to grab his cup, but their fingers brush against each other and he releases it as though bitten. He scoffs and raises the ante, folding his arms.

Anarchaia shrugs and leans back to sit with Koltira. “I tried.”

“She’s hard to miss,” Grimory says with a halfhearted chuckle. “And I’m sure if anyone asks nicely she’ll let them ride her.”

Juliember purses her lips at the demon hunter. <<Wrong.>>

Koltira calls and leans back, eyeing his friend. “Bug up your ass, Thass?”

Taveth sits back down at the table and slides a bottle across to Grimory, then sips on his own drink as he calls the raise. “Oh, we’re not talking about breaking my bones anymore. That’s nice. That’s very nice.”

Grimory pulls his ears back at the unfamiliar word but grins at her all the same. He turns to Taveth. “Is that what she was saying?” He flips another card on the board and tosses his own into the fold pile. “Sounds like you have an admirer.”

“Hard to play over the smell,” Thassarian sneers.

Taveth shoots Thassarian a look. “Well, I know what she said was uncalled for, but that is still rude.” He frowns at Grimory, then glances at the troll. He ducks his head when she flicks interested eyebrows at him. “I’d rather have none than have that sort of admirer.”

Alisbeth giggles and sticks a tongue out at her cousin. “You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“It’s not a question of looks, it’s a question of intent. Does she mean to snap me like a twig? Yes. Therefore, I am utterly uninterested.”

Juliember makes a face. <<Why do I feel you are speaking about me?>>

Alisbeth grins at the troll. “Because we are.” She kisses the warm, blue skin of the troll’s cheek. “All bad things, of course.”

<Mmm,>> Juliember hums and smiles. <<Why would I be interested in a human when I have you ladies, hmm?>> She drags Anarchaia closer and wraps an arm around her waist, then pulls the two tighter to her.

Anarchaia stiffens, flushes, and turns pleading eyes to Koltira. <<Help me,>> she whines in Gutterspeak.

“Good,” Thassarian grunts and pushes his empty stein toward Taveth expectantly.

Taveth glares at the container. “Thass, I’m not on the clock.” He pushes the stein back.

Juliember grins at the mage, but her eyes flit to find Thassarian’s across the table.

Alisbeth’s lower right eyelid twitches just once. “Interesting language, Antorian. What is it?” She grips the mage with her free arm so she and the troll have her locked in place.

Koltira reaches for Anarchaia’s hand to pull at her. “Let her go before you break _her_.”

Alisbeth’s grin deepens. “Oh, but we’re not squeezing the air out of her, are we? No, right Jury?”

Thassarian catches the glance and turns to Taveth as though he hadn’t seen. “I’ll make it worth your time. Scholars don’t get paid much, eh?”

“I speak most languages, Ali.” Anarchaia curls her fingers around Koltira’s. “Actually, it _is_ getting a bit hard to breathe…heh.” She struggles against their grasps. “Rather painful, actually.”

Taveth purses his lips, his brow lowered. “You’d be surprised,” he mutters, then stands. He throws a careless bid onto the table and heads to the bar, stein in hand.

Koltira pulls harder and Juliember relinquishes her hold. <<Party pooper.>>

Anarchaia presses herself against the death knight, putting a foot between herself and the troll. <<Consent is a thing, you know.>>

Grimory takes a long drink and flips the last card on the board. “Can we return to a language everyone understands please? Starting to feel like a fourth wheel.”

Thassarian shifts uncomfortably and raises the bet after looking at the last card. He scratches at his cheek and avoids looking directly at the women across the table. “You’d think this was a brothel.”

Koltira doesn’t look up from his cards, just drops gold onto the table as he addresses Grimory. “Juliember doesn’t speak Common. Thassarian doesn’t speak any of the languages of the Horde people. So, sadly, no, we cannot stick to _one_ language.”

Taveth sets a fresh stein in front of Thassarian. “I really don’t mind translating. Most of what was said was something akin to Thassarian not being man enough for her? She’d break his bones trying…” He trails off and sips at his drink, assuming no one is actually interested.

Thassarian scoffs. “She’d be in more danger than I should we be left alone together…again.”

Juliember purses her lips and looks at the mage. <<What are those boys talking about?>>

“So, she doesn’t speak Thalassian?” the demon hunter says with a lowered eyebrow.

<<He’s reiterating what you said earlier. Thass says you’d be the one with broken bones.>> Anarchaia takes a drink of her wine. <<Do you speak Thalassian?>>

Juliember cocks an eyebrow. <<No. Does he?>> She jerks her chin at the human.

<<Nope,>> Koltira answers her. <<How many languages _do_ you speak?>>

An expression of embarrassment crosses the troll’s face. <<Two and a half. The half being Taur-ahe. But I was the top of my class, so I hope to learn more soon!>>

Alisbeth swipes the bottle from in front of Grimory and takes a drink. “Oh, you hear that? Of course you don’t. She’s top of her class and plans to learn more languages. Does that make you ambitious to do the same?” She pokes at his bare chest.

<<I can give you lessons,>> Anarchaia says excitedly. She looks at Thassarian. “You as well.”

Thassarian eyes the mage. “Me as well, what?”

“I’ll teach you Orcish.”

“I’ve hardly the time for school.” The human hiccups into a fist.

Anarchaia deflates. “Ah. Understandable.” She downs the rest of her bottle.

Grimory rubs at his chest and purses his lips at her. “Being imprisoned in a crystal for ten years doesn’t earn me a pass?”

The druid smiles. <<I would like that. Perhaps start with Common so I can hear what assholes like your friend there are saying about me in the streets.>> Her eyes fix on the death knight again.

Taveth directs a small smile to Grimory. “But you’re out now. I happen to have plenty of free time—usually. I could help Ana teach all of you some helpful languages.”

Alisbeth scoffs. “I know Orcish and Trollish, I’m good.”

Grimory ponders the proposal for a moment then nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Anarchaia relays what Juliember has said to Thassarian, then turns to the troll. <<He says that whether you can understand him or not will not make his words any kinder.>>

<<Mmh,>> the troll hums as though taking joy out of the words, <<I love a man who knows how to speak dirty.>> She looks at the clock over Taveth’s head. <<Oh, look at the time. I’m sorry, I’m _late_ for a prior engagement.>> She lifts Alisbeth, slides out from under her, then drops the death knight back down. She looks pointedly at Thassarian, then back at the clock. <<It was a pleasure seeing all of you again. Please, call on me again, when I have more time?>>

Alisbeth frowns. <<You’re leaving?>> she whines.

<<It was very nice meeting you,>> Taveth says, standing to shake her hand across the table.

She grins at him. <<Careful with that pretty face of yours.>> She leans down to hug Koltira and Anarchaia, one wrapped in each arm.

Anarchaia gives a quiet, nervous titter and pats the troll’s arm. <<Don’t be a stranger. Heh.>>

<<Perhaps I can stop into Dalaran more often.>> She kisses them each on the cheek, then leaves.

Anarchaia flushes a deeper hue and attempts to drink from her empty bottle.

Thassarian shifts uncomfortably in his seat again and drinks from his stein. “Finally.” He shoves the pot toward Koltira and gathers the cards for shuffling.

Taveth finally smiles at Thassarian. “So, you’re not as traumatized by the troll than I expected. I personally wouldn’t be able to be in the same room with a tauren if I’d woken up in bed with one.”

Koltira raises a lower lid at the high elf. “You not a tauren fan?”

“They’re…hairy,” he says, cringing. “And when I see them all I can think of are the cattle in Westfall.”

Grimory hits his hand on the table and gestures to Taveth. “_Thank you!_ Everyone calls me a bigot for not being into them.”

Thassarian shrugs. “I personally think trolls are worse. At least tauren bathe.”

Taveth sneers. “That only makes them smell worse. Moldy. And I think their troll friend does bathe… Didn’t smell a thing.”

Koltira’s expression fixes on Thassarian through the conversation, trying to get a read on him. <<His poker face says he’s lying about something, I’m not sure exactly what he’s hiding, though.>>

“Your nose must be broken,” Thassarian says with a chuckle and raises the ante fifty gold when he sees his hand.

<<They definitely fucked,>> Anarchaia whispers, the alcohol making her carefree enough to use words she normally wouldn’t. <<You expect him to admit it? Even to you?>>

Koltira shakes his head. <<I don’t expect him to admit it to anyone, even himself.>>

Taveth eyes the two across the table. <<No… He wouldn’t! Would he? He _hates_ trolls. All of them.>>

Alisbeth leans over to Grimory as she drops gold she didn’t count onto the table. “Hey, is it just me or do they sound like gurgling toilets when they talk like that?”

Anarchaia eyes Taveth. <<Eavesdropping isn’t very polite, sir.>> She sticks her tongue out at him.

Grimory chuckles. “I think you’re just biased against forsaken. But no, their language is not very pretty.” He folds his cards, then flips the board card.

Thassarian bounces a knee below the table and takes another rushed drink of his stein. “Your turn, mage girl.”

Anarchaia blinks. “Oh. Sorry. Heh.” She tosses her cards in the burn pile. “I fold.”

Alisbeth turns a forced smile on the demon hunter, an eye twitching. “She speaks the forsaken language quite well, no? Almost like it’s very, _very_ familiar to her. Right?” She laughs softly in a forced manner.

Grimory turns over the last card on the board and grits his teeth at Alisbeth’s tone. He swallows. “Uh…yeah, I suppose so.” He avoids looking at her lest he give himself away. “She speaks most languages pretty fluently, though. It’s not surprising.” He takes a long drink.

Koltira absently tosses gold onto the pile and slouches back in the chair. “Any plans today, Thass? Was thinking the two of us could spar, or something. Like old times.”

Taveth purses his lips at the mage, then turns his attention to his cards, then pushes gold to the pile as well, calling Thassarian’s raise.

Thassarian raises the bet another fifty gold. “Actually, I’ve got an appointment. Soon, as a matter of fact. I just stopped by because I’d heard the Nighthearts recently bought this tavern and I wanted my favorite drink.” He drains his stein, heel still tapping impatiently.

Anarchaia shoots Taveth a look and grins while swallowing a hiccup. “You must have a good hand.”

Taveth furrows his brow at the mage. “Probably not. I don’t know. I’ve never been great with cards.” He shrugs and follows Thassarian’s bet with his own fifty gold.

Alisbeth shoves more gold onto the table, still not having counted it. She grins at Grimory. “I suppose you’re right. Silly me. You’re so smart, Grim.”

Koltira eyes Alisbeth, barely taking in what she’s saying as he counts more than the right amount she’d shoved in. He keeps his mouth closed and turns to Thassarian. “You’ve a terrible poker face.” He slides fifty gold to the pot. “I call your bluff.”

Thassarian sets his two cards down without looking away from Koltira, a smirk on his face. “Royal flush.”

The demon hunter across the table grumbles and folds his arms as Thassarian scoops his earnings into a pouch—picking the excess out and giving back to Alisbeth.

The human sets a hand on Koltira’s shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you around, old friend. Stay out of trouble.” He regards the rest with a nod and a smile, then heads out into the dimly lit streets.

Anarchaia chuckles. “I suppose a bad poker face is sometimes a good poker face.” She pulls her mask back over her face, then sets a palm on her chest. “Mine is always perfect, however.”

Taveth frowns and sets his hand of aces down, then shoves them at the card pile. “All right, then. I think I’m going to head back to the Vindicaar. I heard something about a Beacon on Krasus Landing.”

Alisbeth pouts. “Oh, but why?”

“I’m no good at cards and I don’t feel like drinking.”

Grimory yawns, then blinks when the action makes him light headed. “Have fun. I think _I’m_ going to call it a night.” He glances at Alisbeth with a grin. “Unless you have something else you wanna do.”

Alisbeth perks. “Killing _forsaken_ scum?”

Anarchaia gives the elf beside her a sideways glance. She bites her lip despite his not being able to see. <<I know there’s something _I’ve_ been meaning to do.>>

Koltira stands and grabs the mage, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “You drive a hard bargain. I resisted for as long as I could, but, you’ve caught me.” He strides for the door.

Taveth purses his lips at the couples and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I’m tired, yes, but I’ve some work to do before I can allow myself to sleep.”

Grimory chuckles. “Actually, sure. Maybe we can go to the range and pretend for a bit, yeah?” He looks at Taveth. “Oh yeah? Reading is hardly work. The nurse said you need rest, yet.”

Taveth bristles. “Actually, I need to report in for the day—omitting, of course, that I nearly died. That’s just what I’d need.” He sighs. “Good night.”

Alisbeth frowns. “No. No pretending. I want to kill some. One. In particular.” She grins and shrugs. “Sounds like fun, right?”

“Night, Tav.” Grimory furrows his brow and turns back to Alisbeth. “A particular one? Who? Why?” He pulls his ears back. “Have you found the ones who killed you?”

Alisbeth frowns. “No. I don’t know where they are.” She smiles again. “But I _do_ know one. Lives in the Hall of the Guardian. Wretched little thing.” She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls herself in close. “You wouldn’t make me do this alone, would you?”

A flicker of panic strikes through Grimory but he pushes it down. “Oh? Uh…did he insult you or something?” He pauses, conflicted, and avoids her eye. “Ali, you know we can’t kill anyone in the city…”

“Remember that one? The one who kept me in my room? Him. I wanna kill him. Will you help me? I’ll give you a nice reward.” She winks and bites her lower lip.

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly. “A forsaken kept you in your room?” He scowls. “Who? Did he hurt you? Show me.”

Alisbeth nods emphatically. “He did. Then Agriculture came back and saved me. And to help me feel better she got a bunch of vases and we had a fight!” The excitement fades from her eyes. “I like her. It’s not fair.”

Grimory furrows his brow and frowns some. He sets a hand on her knee upon seeing the happiness dim in her features. “What isn’t fair?”

_Don’t tell him._ Alisbeth hisses. “Nothing. Nothing is not fair. I’m just saying things. Must be the whiskey.” She presses her palm to the back of his hand, trapping it on her knee. “What were we talking about?”

The urge to press her rises but Grimory pushes it back. He chuckles. “We could go looking for trouble outside the city if you’re feeling…bloodlusty.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Unless you have your heart set on this one forsaken guy.”

Alisbeth finishes the bottle of whiskey and smiles at the demon hunter. “What was it you were wanting to do? Oh, sleep. You want that?”

Grimory pushes his cheek into his knuckles and smiles at her. “Yeah, but you seem pretty amped. I’d hate to bail on you. Tell you what, we go do something you want with this limited time we have off, then after I can sleep. Yeah?”

Alisbeth’s smile twists into an evil grin. “Wanna go somewhere we might get caught?”

Grimory’s eyebrows raise again and he glances around the tavern. He then turns back with a mischievous smirk. “Go and I’ll follow.”

Alisbeth grabs Grimory’s hand and drags him out of the tavern to search for a good place.

Grimory keeps pace, then stops her to gesture at a quiet alcove between the citadel and the tavern beside it. “Dangerous enough?” he says with a fangy grin.

Alisbeth barely lets him take her far before she leaps at him and starts yanking at his belt. “It better be, cause I’m impatient, now.” She pushes him to a wall and jumps on him.

~ * ~

Anarchaia flails and laughs, gently hitting the death knight in the back, then blushes and lowers to a giggle as she catches the eyes of passersby. “This isn’t what I had in mind!” she says in a hushed yell over her shoulder.

Koltira deftly shifts the mage in his arms to cradle her. “Oh, is this better?”

Anarchaia gives another quiet chuckle and wraps her arms around his neck. She smiles up at him from behind her mask. “I have functioning legs, kind sir. All the same, where are you taking me? Plan to throw me off city limits?”

Koltira stops. “To be honest, I only thought as far as whisking you out of the tavern.”

Anarchaia laughs outright and leaps from his arms. “Romantic nonetheless.” She grabs him by the arm and hugs it tightly, then steers him toward the nearest inn. “Such acts shouldn’t go unpunished.”After a moment of walking, the tipsy mage finds she can no longer wait and grabs Koltira by the collar of his cuirass. She pulls him into dark, narrow alley and pushes him against the wall while simultaneously pulling up her mask. A hum escapes her as she stands on her toes to push her lips to his.

Koltira chuckles against her lips and lifts her feet from the ground. “Madam, I do believe you are drunk. Perhaps you need an escort home.”

Anarchaia smiles and presses more hungry kisses into his lips. “It’s been nearly three weeks. Can you really blame me?” she asks in a hushed tone, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his tresses. “And whose home?”

Koltira hums. “Well, I don’t have a room and you’re not allowed in my ‘home’.” He runs his free hand down her side, his hand smoothing over the silky robes, then pauses. “Oh, right, I’m not allowed at your place, either. Convenient.”

The mage scoffs in frustration, then bites her lip. She leans down to press her lips to the space just below his jaw. “We could clean up my house.” She kisses his cold skin. “I’ll work on my teleportation. It could be our place.” Another kiss, just below his ear lobe. “For us to go to. Whenever we want.”

Koltira groans and squeezes her tighter. “That sounds like a great idea. It _also_ sounds like you’re asking me to move in with you—but only sometimes.”

“Think of it as a vacation home,” she says on a breathy laugh. A pang of realization hits her and she pulls away to look at him, cheeks a dark pink. “U-Unless you don’t want to, of course. I’m not…rushing you or anything. Heh.”

Koltira spins to pin the mage against the wall. “I see nothing wrong with rushing a place to escape. Could really use one right now.” He kisses her long and deep.

“Hey! You two! Take that indoors.” A blond high elf holds up a lantern to look at the two, his face set and stern.

Anarchaia closes her eyes, then jumps and pulls away at the voice. She looks back to Koltira and can’t hold in a laugh. “I suppose we better do as he says.” She sighs and sets a hand on his cheek. “Maybe we can deal with an inn for tonight. After our off-world excursion, we can work on our _paradise getaway_.” She chortles and licks her lower lip.

Koltira grins at the guard as he leads Anarchaia away. “Have a good night, Mr. Nightheart.”

Anarchaia eyes the man as he passes, an embarrassed grin on her face. “They’re everywhere,” she mutters and pulls him into the next inn they pass. She throws gold on the counter and hurriedly grabs the key and pulls him down the hall.

~ * ~

Archmage Khadgar returns to the Hall—cheeks flushed from his two drinks—and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and makes his way to the tavern downstairs where he knows fresh coffee to be. Once there, a head of azure hair catches his eye and he sets a hand on the man’s shoulder with a smile. “Kalec, my friend. How goes it?”

Kalec jumps as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Oh, hello Khadgar. It, um…goes, I suppose. You?” He raises his stein of ale and takes a long drink, as though the drink might change his destiny.

Khadgar takes a seat beside him and orders a simple coffee which is set before him within seconds. “Tired. As always.” He drinks the burning hot liquid. “You seem distraught. Anything I can do?”

Kalec sighs and closes his eyes as though defeated. “It’s…my apprentice. She’s a gifted student—nowhere near yours, of course. But…” He puts his face in one hand and groans into the brown leather of his glove.

Khadgar furrows his silver brows. “The…blonde girl?” He chuckles into his coffee. “Say no more. I know your plight.” A sigh escapes him as well. “Let me guess. Distant, less ambition, long absences without notice?”

“The _opposite!_” Kalec nearly shouts. “She talks of ambitious ventures. _Talks_. She doesn’t demonstrate to me at her full potential so that I can accurately gauge what scale of a mage we’re dealing with. And she _never leaves_. She has virtually set herself up at my side as a secretary.” He runs his fingers through his royal blue hair and sighs. “Maybe if I forced her out into the world she’d learn a thing or two. Or die. That’s a fifty-fifty chance of me failing as a teacher.”

Khadgar lifts his eyebrows at the man’s quiet outburst. He purses his lips. “Ana’s been the opposite of that. She has worldly experience—and is gifted—but refuses to sit and study like she used to.” The corner of his mouth tightens. “Ever since Deathweaver—no, _Silversong_—she’s been slacking. I can’t get her to spend more than an hour on actual lessons. I’ve come dangerously close to relieving her. Just yesterday, in fact.” He sighs again and rubs at his mouth with a palm. “She needs an outlet to hone her skills other than the sparse time she and I are together.”

Kalec raises an eyebrow and motions for a refill, which he receives almost instantly. “What happened yesterday?”

“I told her to stay and take care of my things while I am away on Argus.” He scowls, still as bitter as the drink in his hand. “And she came anyway. Pawned the paperwork off on Modera.”

Kalec sets down his stein, his jaw slack with shock. “Such disobedience! I would—I have absolutely no idea, actually. I’ve never encountered such a thing with my own apprentice. I…almost wish she would wander off on grand adventures. Get herself into trouble and figure out how to get out of it. Builds character—and magical acuity.” He chuckles and takes a long drink, then purses his lips at Khadgar. “What do you think you’re going to do about it?”

“Nothing, probably. I’m too soft on her. I’m thinking Ana needs something to distract her from her…distractions…on her…” He turns blue eyes, glimmering with realization, up to the man before him. “…adventures.”

As though hit in the head, Kalec sits upright and turns his whole body to face Khadgar. “Wait a minute…”


	8. Chapter 8

Alisbeth rolls over to look at Grimory’s sleeping face in the morning light. She waits for what seems like hours before she reaches over and pokes his nose. “Boop.” She continues her action for as long as it takes him to wake up.

Grimory groans and furrows his brow on the fifth poke. He reaches up to grab her finger, then bites the tip. “It’s not even fully light out yet,” he grumbles, eyes remaining closed.

Alisbeth glances at the bay doors, then back at him. “Yes it is! Those are _curtains_.” She nuzzles into him. “I need you to cuddle me.”

Grimory smiles and pushes her around to her other side, then snakes an arm around her waist to pull her close. He sets his lips and chin on the back of her head. He sighs, causing her hair to flutter. “We need thicker curtains.”

She giggles and turns her head, trying to see him over her shoulder. “_We?_”

He huffs a laugh through his nose. “I practically live here. But if I’m unwelcome, I know where the door is…” He threatens to loosen his grip on her waist.

Alisbeth clamps her hands around the demon hunter’s wrists. “No no no! I just… _We_… I…like it. How is sounds.”

The Illidari smiles to himself when she pulls his hands back. “Well _we_ can lie here a little longer, yeah? Argus will still be there at midday. Rather than dawn.”

Alisbeth sighs loudly and pouts. “You’ve been asleep forever, though.”

He hums as though in agreement. “We were up late.” He sighs. “If you bring me my clothes, I’ll get dressed.”

She sighs and pushes her back into his chest. “But I’m comfortable. And I like you this way just fine.”

He runs a hand along her side with the backs of his fingers. “Naked?” he laughs quietly.

Alisbeth hums and nods. “Yes. Fun things happen when you’re not wearing anything.”

Grimory grins against her hair. “That they do. Wanna just lie here all day, then? I honestly don’t feel like being subject to Lord Illidan’s scrutiny again.”

The death knight giggles and rolls over. “I like him. Except for him being mean to you. I don’t like that.” She wraps her arms behind his head and pulls him into several kisses.

Grimory hums against her lips. “He’s always been that way.” He kisses her again and sighs. “I guess we should get going. The sooner we get done on Argus, the sooner we can come back and forget any of it happened, yeah?”

Alisbeth whines and rolls her head back. “But I’m comfortable. And naked.” She sighs up at the ceiling. “But, I mean…killing things. Okay, let’s go.” She leaps out of the bed and grabs his things to toss at him.

Grimory sits up, then flinches when his pants wrap around his face. He sighs and stands to put them on, then glances in the mirror to scowl at his hair—unruly and unkempt

Alisbeth pulls her clothes on quickly, then begins buckling her armor around her. “You think Tav is in Dalaran or up on the Vicksvapor?”

Grimory styles his hair meticulously, then finishes dressing. He yawns and rubs at an eye. “That idiot is probably already out on the field. Dying again.” He secures his pack at his hip.

Alisbeth frowns at him. “If he is, I’m holding you accountable.” She crosses the Maw and the Redblade over her back and folds her arms.

Grimory chuckles and opens the door after dabbing his cologne behind his ears. “I’m kidding. He’s not dumb enough to go down without a party to accompany him.”

Alisbeth leads Grimory down the stairs and nods. “I think you’re right. After yesterday…”

Grimory nods, then stops in the tavern. “Do you have a hearthstone? You won’t have to use the beacon, then…”

Alisbeth thinks on it. “I think I had one, but I don’t anymore. I think. Where can I get a new one?” She smiles and hooks her arm through his.

The demon hunter leads her to the bar where Arille digs beneath the counter. He sets a small white stone etched with a cyan swirl on the countertop. Grimory pays him and hands the stone to Alisbeth. “We’ll find the innkeeper up on the ship and they’ll bind it for you, yeah?”

Alisbeth shrugs. “Sounds good.” She slips it into her pack.

Grimory takes her hand and leads her toward Krasus’ Landing. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to take it there, first. Is that okay?”

She squeezes his hand tightly. “Don’t let go. Don’t leave me in the meat grinder, okay?”

Grimory turns to give her a comforting smile. “Of course not.” He stops before the golden platform. “Ready?”

Alisbeth whines and grips him tighter. “No.”

The Illidari bites the inside of his lip, then bends at the waist to pick her up. “You can hold onto me, then, okay?”

Alisbeth grips him as tight as she can. She closes her eyes and nods, holding her breath.

Grimory steps through the beacon and, in a bright flash, the two are again transported to the Vindicar. He holds her tight through the process.

Alisbeth grips the Illidari’s skin, her fingers holding tight as her body tries to writhe from the pain.

Grimory sets a hand on the back of her head, hugging her tightly to him. When she relaxes again, he sets her down. “There. Now you won’t have to do it again, yeah?”

She smiles and hugs the demon hunter. She sniffs a little. “Thank you.”

Grimory grins and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s go find Taveth, yeah?”

“Yes, let’s.” She looks around the upper deck, scanning the sparse area. “Downstairs?”

He hums and heads downstairs. He waves at the familiar blond ponytail and pale gray Draenei beside him. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Eophen greets with a smile as he looks up from their conversation. “Eager to get back out there, I see.”

Alisbeth twitches as the two chatter idly. Her gaze sweeps across the area. Around a corner, she sees a blond head on the floor. Grinning, she runs over to the man with his head propped on his satchel, his hand on his open book and his pen on the floor nearby. Two men in plate step forward and grab her by the arms, then shove her away.

“Um, _excuse me!_ That’s my _cousin!_”

“Don’t disturb Mr. Nightheart.”

Alisbeth mocks the man, then runs forward again, only to be caught and pushed back. “_Taveth!_” she shouts and flicks little bits of debris toward his face.

Grimory glances over at the commotion, then gives Eophen a curt wave and strides over. “Wwwhat’s going on here?” he says coolly, then perks and waves. “Oh. Taveth.”

Taveth groans and opens his eyes. He stretches, then stops halfway to stare at the two men over him. “Right. Okay then.” He gathers his things and walks around them to Alisbeth. They step forward to flank him. His eyes shoot to each as he clutches his bag.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes and purses her lips. She reaches for Taveth and the men step forward. She tips her head for Taveth to follow, and they follow, too. “Okay, what the hell is this? Back up off my cousin.”

“Can’t, ma’am.”

Taveth shrinks and hunches. “What in the world is going on?”

Grimory eyes the guards as they regard him with dirty looks. He folds his arms in subtle defiance. “These are Alliance guards. Tav, what is this?”

Taveth cringes. “I don’t know!”

“What are your orders?” Alisbeth asks, her face stern as she stands at rested attention before them.

“Not for you,” one says.

“Excuse me? I am the daughter of Captain Redblade!”

They look at each other. “Who?”

Taveth groans. “Just tell us your orders!”

One holds out a sealed scroll for the elf. “Sir.”

Taveth takes one look at the wax seal and becomes visibly irritated. He unrolls the scroll and reads it, then scowls. “‘Tav, I cannot afford to lose you right now. These men will keep you safe.’” He crumbles up the paper and throws it on the floor, then picks it up after a draenei with a broom glares over at him. “I have plenty of protection! Go back to Stormwind!” He walks away and the men follow him. “Kill me,” he sighs at the floor.

Grimory chuckles. “Someone must gave heard about your little excursion. You didn’t tell us you were seeing someone.” He pauses. “Who has disposable body guards.”

~ * ~

Koltira stares up at the ceiling, an arm wrapped under the mage. “Do you think we can just…skip responsibility today and go fix up your house? Then just never come back?”

Anarchaia smiles sadly and opens her eyes from her faux sleep. She rolls over to lie atop him and buries her face in the crook of his neck then sighs. “Let’s quit and run off together.”

The death knight wraps his arms around her slender figure and squeezes her into a hug. “Do you think we really could? Just right now, be done with it all.” He brushes a stray clump of hair from the mage’s cheek and tucks it behind her ear. “Just be together, with no one else. Grow vegetables we won’t eat. Grow flowers. All of them. Every kind.”

Anarchaia’s smile fades. She reaches down to pull the quilt over their entangled forms and sighs again. “Get a puppy. Raise it, then raise it again when it dies. Drink wine and whiskey and read while we cuddle with the window open while it rains.” She furrows her brow. _No children, though._

“_Mmm_, yes. Sign me up. Right now.” He opens his eyes from the visions of a perfect solitary life with the mage to find her expression more forlorn than happy. “What’s wrong? Is it Khadgar? I’m sure he would understand…”

Anarchaia tries to smile but it ends up as a sort of grimace. “No…it’s…” She sighs and sobers, chewing on the tip of a thumb. “Nothing. It’d ruin the moment.”

Koltira rolls, letting the mage slip onto her back so he can lean over her and stroke her cheek. “Ana, there is no _mood_ if you’re upset. What can I do to fix it?”

Anarchaia’s eyes flit between his, her brow furrowed. She brings a hand up to wrap her fingers around his. “Find a way for me to bear children.”

Koltira frown and closes his eyes as he leans forward to set his forehead to hers. “The only thing close to children a death knight can create…is an abomination.” He says the word with contempt, his lips pinched in a sneer. His features soften after a moment and he lets out a long breath, then pulls her closer and looks into her eyes. “Your master…would be the person to ask, I think. Are you really prepared for his input in the matter?”

The mage frowns, then hides it in his chest. “I don’t know,” she groans, wrapping her arms about his torso. “Every time I see that little girl…” Her fingers tighten against his shoulder blades and she clenches her eyes shut. “It hurts.”

Koltira frowns and buries his nose in the top of her head. “It’s like being teased. There she is, this child that needs parents. And yet…she has them, no matter how inept they are.” He sighs and flinches. “I’m sorry, that was rude. But I can’t help it. Jealousy burns in me every time I see her with them. And that time that I babysat her…I realized how much I was missing out on.” He pulls the mage as close as he can to him. “It’s funny how when I was alive I never had this sort of conversations with any of my girlfriends. And now…” He kisses the top of her head.

Anarchaia nods slowly while he speaks. “They don’t deserve her,” she says on a whim. “It’s all I think when I see them together.” His final thought makes her smile and she finally brings herself to look up into his face. She tentatively kisses his cold lips. “You didn’t want children with them?”

Koltira chuckles. “It wasn’t about them. It was about me having my entire life ahead of me. Now look, we’ve known each other how long? And the only truth we seem to have found in our deaths is that we want children.” He searches her eyes as though a secret lies within. “I’ve done nothing to impact the world. Not really. But a child? I wouldn’t become nothing when I finally meet my end. I’m the last Deathweaver. When I’m gone the name will be lost. I don’t know. It feels like my whole family will die all over again.”

Anarchaia sobers once again. “I’m the last of my family, too,” she whispers. She brings her hands up to run through his hair. “To be fair, I’ve always wanted children, but…my previous boyfriends were…not someone I’d want to raise a child with.” Her lips upturn in the slightest of smiles. “But you…” She chuckles. “What would you name him?”

“Him? Oh, you’re making hypothetical male heirs already, hmm?” He laughs and thinks on it. “Faltora. For my brother. You?”

Anarchaia’s face softens and she sets a hand on his cheek. “Faltora is perfect.” She chuckles. “A girl, however…” She sets a finger to her lower lip as she thinks. “Aralisse, perhaps. After my mother.” Her smile grows sad. “If only Master Kel’thuzad were still alive.”

Koltira smiles sadly at her. “You really think he could’ve done something?”

Anarchaia shrugs, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers. “Provided answers, if anything. Perhaps Master does know things he hasn’t told me.” She furrows her brow. “He won’t like that conversation though.”

The death knight takes her cheek in his palm. “Sometimes the conversations we like the least are the ones that need to be had.”

Anarchaia nods and turns her head to kiss his palm. “I’ll do all I can.” She looks up at him, lips still on his hand, and hesitates. “I-If you’re sure that’s what you’d want.”

“Just…don’t go crazy searching for a solution if there is none. Okay?”

Anarchaia nods. “My hopes are low. I probably won’t even be disappointed.” She sighs. “I…guess we should get up. It’s getting light out.”

Koltira groans like it’s the worst news he’s heard in his life, then wraps the mage in his arms and rolls out of the bed still holding her. “I guess you’re right.” He places a kiss on her lips, then sets her feet down on the floor. “Knowing Ali, she’s already gotten Grim up at the crack of dawn. Let’s hope they waited for us.” He tosses the mage’s clothes into a neat pile on the bed, then searches out his own items.

Anarchaia dresses slowly as though with restraint. “What were your orders, anyway? The sooner were finished, the sooner we can hide in Duskwood for a day. Or a week. Or ever.” She buckles her belt around her waist. “And frankly I couldn’t care less if they wait for us. Heh.”

“My orders are to aid in the fight against the legion,” he says. “There is no end date, just help out until we win, I guess.” He buckles his armor on and folds his arms, watching her dress. “Doesn’t mean we can’t take small breaks.”

This time it’s Anarchaia who gives an anguished groan. She saunters over to tiredly wrap her arms around his cuirass. “A small forever break?”

Koltira groans right back. “AWOL sounds like no big deal, right now.” He kisses her, then straightens. “Ready?”

Anarchaia nods solemnly as though being forced and steps out into the hallway. The sound of a door closing sounds out to her right and she looks over. A smile crawls across her face. “Oh. Thassarian. Good morning.”

Thassarian’s eyes go wide. “What are you doing here?”

Koltira smirks. “She’s not allowed at my place and I’m not allowed at hers. You, uh, working a similar situation in there?”

The human jolts slightly. “No. This? I just…had too much. Didn’t trust myself to get back.”

“The death gate is instant, brother.”

Anarchaia leans forward with her head craned to look past him into his room. “So, there’s no one in there with you, then?”

The death knight splutters. “What? No! Just me. Gods sakes.”

Koltira grins like a devil. “Okay, well, we really must be going. Say hi to Juliember for us.”

Thassarian grunts acknowledgement, then stops. “Seriously, Deathweaver, I’m already nauseous as it is!”

Anarchaia titters into a hand and grabs Koltira’s with the other. “Good bye, Thass.” She raises her voice. <<_GOOD BYE JULES._>> She pulls the elf down the stairs.

Koltira laughs outright and drags the mage into a hug. “Oh, gods. Do you really think she’s in there?”

Anarchaia relishes the embrace and chuckles into his chest. “Is it weird that I kind of hope so?”

“It might be,” he says. “But I support your hope. I just want to torture him relentlessly. A troll, of all things.”

“Could be a gnome.” Anarchaia leads him back out onto the streets. She pauses as she looks down the straightaway before them, then looks up at the looming planet above. She sighs. “I really need to work on my teleportation. I don’t want to go onto that warp pad again.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow at the mage. “I’m not sure what gnomes have to do with anything…” He purses his lips and wraps an arm around her waist. “I have no other ideas besides stepping on that monstrosity.

Anarchaia gives a chuckle and does the same, then looks up at him with a coy grin. “You’re telling me you’d sleep with a gnome?” She avoids looking straight ahead as they ascend the steps together, as though not seeing the device will make it hurt less. She sighs, however, when they approach. “Well. Duty calls.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow and blinks at the mage. “What is your obsession with gnomes? I was merely stating that Thassarian, of all people, with a troll? I didn’t think anything more needed to be said, but clearly it does. You hate gnomes, don’t you?”

“They’re creepy, okay? They’re like children but with breasts. And mustaches. And three fingers! _Three fingers, Kolt._” She holds up her hand with the pinky curled. “I’m just saying I’d rather spend the night with a troll if I were him.”

Koltira chuckles. “I guess we all have our aversions. Come on.” He urges her through the portal.

Anarchaia nods and steps onto the device. Fire tears through her soul and she quickly steps off once on the other side. She puffs, using a pillar near the staircase for support. “We need hearthstones,” she breathes.

A grey draenei woman smiles at the two. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but I have hearthstones.” She holds two up, one in each hand. “One gold each.” She smiles kindly.

Koltira withdraws two gold and allows the draenei to set the stones in his palm, then hands one to the mage. “Mission accomplished.”

Anarchaia smiles at the woman, then takes the stone and turns her grin on Koltira. “My, what would I do without you?” She pockets the talisman behind her belt and sighs. “I wonder if they’re here al—” Alisbeth’s voice comes up from the stairwell. “—ready. Heh.”

Koltira takes the mage by the hand and leads her down to the others. “Hmm, I wonder who those two are.”

“Alliance guards,” Anarchaia mumbles with apprehension in her voice. “Hey,” she chirps as the two near. “What’s going on here?”

Alisbeth giggles. “Taveth has babysitters.”

The high elf frowns. “I’m not seeing anyone, it’s none of your business, and they’re _not babysitters!_” He turns to the men. “Okay, look, I have four more than capable people with me—”

“Five,” a voice calls out behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

Anarchaia’s grip on Koltira’s hand tightens at the sound and she slowly turns. Her lips twitch into a reflexive scowl. “Kel’ori.”

The blonde high elf gives Anarchaia a tight-lipped smile. “Anarchaia.”

“Oh, goodie, I have an entire entourage. What can I do to get you three to go away?” Taveth asks.

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “Three?”

“He means me. Sorry little bro, I’m not here for you. Didn’t even know you were part of this.” She leans against the wall and conjures a nail file, then sets to smoothing out her manicure.

The other mage furrows her brow, almost afraid to ask. “So…who _are_ you here for, then?”

Kel’ori pops the gum in her mouth and doesn’t look up from her fingernails. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m your shadow.” She rolls her eyes.

Prophet Velen glides down the stairs with a grace fit for his title and stops before the group. An amused smile pulls at his lips. “Sent you extra protection, did he? Perhaps, after yesterday, it is a wise decision…”

Taveth frowns at Velen. “Hello Prophet. I understand his concern, but I have four—”

“Five!”

“—very adept adventurers with me. Yesterday was a fluke. I got separated from the others—my own fault, of course. But, um, Grimory is adamant he won’t take his eyes off me.” He sends a look to the demon hunter, hoping the man will agree to the claim.

Grimory perks at the sound of his name, then simply nods at the elderly Draenei man. “Nope.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen. “W-What? Under whose orders?”

Velen furrows his brow, seemingly unconvinced, then turns a smile to the guards. “I think he can handle himself.”

The guards straighten and salute. “We’ll pass the message on.”

Kel’ori flicks her wrist and an unfurled scroll pops into Anarchaia’s face. “Apparently _you_ need a babysitter? And _I_ need _real world_ experience.” She scoffs and pops her gum in quick succession. “This is going to suck.”

As the guards head through the portal to Dalaran, Taveth sighs. “You have my thanks, Velen.”

Alisbeth finally leaps at her cousin to hug him. “Hi Taveth! Good morning!”

Anarchaia snatches the parchment from the air and reads, her shoulders slowly raising with each line. “_Supervision for the sake of academics?_” she hisses, her fingers curling around the paper. She restrains herself from setting the letter ablaze, anger bubbling within her. “This— I— _Ugh!_” She crumples the paper and throws it at the ground, then turns on the Prophet. “Archmage Khadgar?”

Velen nods to Taveth, then perks and scratches at his beard. “Not aboard at the moment but I shall inform him you’re looking for him when he is.”

Koltira sets a hand on Anarchaia’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s only for a few days.”

As Taveth straightens his clothes, he catches sight of the draenei from the day before. He stares for a moment before quickly looking away to make sure his books are all in order within his satchel.

Eophen catches Taveth’s gaze and gives a small grin which turns into a chuckle when the elf looks away. He shakes his head and turns for the stairs leading to the engine room.

Kel’ori pushes Koltira aside to stand by the other mage. She takes the gum out of her mouth between her thumb and forefinger and squishes it on a nearby purple crate. “So, like, this’ll only take a couple days, right? I have spa day with the other apprentices this weekend.”

Anarchaia takes a moment to calm herself. She reaches for Koltira’s hand at her shoulder but Kel’ori’s already pushed him aside. She clenches her fist at her side instead. _I wasn’t invited, of course._ She scowls at her own petty thought and shakes her head. “Yes. The less time, the better,” she says with a forced smile. With a lifted hand she opens a portal to their previous location on the surface.

Grimory watches the two women with amused eyes. “Oh, this should be fun.” He motions for the portal to Alisbeth. “After you.”

Alisbeth puts her hands together and dives into the portal as she would into a pool.

Grimory follows the death knight.

Kel’ori gives her brother a look. “Losers first.”

“Aren’t we a little old for that sort of nonsense?” he asks, not moving.

Anarchaia’s knuckles whiten. “Go on ahead, Koltira,” she chirps. <<I don’t want you to see this.>>

Koltira smirks. <<I think I need to. To make sure.>>

<<For science?>> Taveth offers, eyes darting between all of them, not wanting to go through the portal and be teased for it.

“For science,” the undead girl says and lifts a hand. With arcane energies she grabs Kel’ori’s being and throws her through the portal.

Taveth’s eyes widen. “That’s what you were— Oh, now we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Koltira laughs, an arm around the mage’s waist. “Worth it.”

Taveth smiles. “Maybe it was.” He glances around, but doesn’t see what he’s looking for, and so steps through the portal, unsure why he was looking in the first place.

Koltira grins. <<Oh, the things I’d like to do to you when I see you put people in their place…>> He takes her hand and drags her through the portal with himself.

Anarchaia flushes and lifts her eyebrows, opening her mouth but being pulled through the portal before she can speak. She sighs at the now familiar sight of brimstone, green, and orange, then looks about. “I imagine Turalyon is here already?”

“There. Tav has already found him. Where is Ali?” Koltira leads her around the other two to meet up with the high elf and the High Exarch.

Grimory grunts as a body is thrown into him. He stumbles backward, arms reflexively grabbing the figure. “Oh. Hey. Kel’ori, was it?” He chuckles and sets her back to her feet.

Kel’ori’s smile comes slowly; an almost intoxicated one as she looks up at Grimory through her eyelashes. “Oh, my. Aren’t you a strong one.”

“So I’m told,” Grimory responds with a smirk and turns to look for Alisbeth when prompted about her. “Oh, she saw some small critter and decided she wants to take it home with her. She’s here somewhere.”

After scoffing at Kel’ori’s behavior, Anarchaia regards the human with the slightest of bows, unsure of how else to address him. “Your…radiance…” She grimaces. “We’ve returned to aid the fight. Where would you have us?”

Turalyon can’t help but bark a laugh at the awkward girl before him. “I’m not of any royalty, young lady. Keep your pleasantries.” He sobers. “Xe’ra is being held in a crashed ship just north of here. Unfortunately, a barrier of rubble blocks our path, as well as a slew of demons. If you can recover the Vindicaar’s beam weapon, we can create a way in and recover Xe’ra from within.”

Taveth smiles at the mage, then at the human. “I’m sure my friends and I are up to the task.”

Alisbeth comes running up to the demon hunter with a large green and grey rodent of sorts. “Grim! Can I keep it? Look at how cute it is. Look at that little face! Can we keep him? Please, please, _please?_” She shoves the little creature nose-first into Grimory’s face, accidentally pushing its hind end to face Kel’ori.

Grimory leans back and away from the animal that chitters in his face, then smiles and pats it on the head. “I don’t think taking it out of its natural environment is a good idea, Ali.” He perks when he sees the other three heading down the path. “Come on. You can keep it while we’re here.”

Anarchaia sighs and stops to wait for the others. “Lagging already?” she grumbles.

Alisbeth takes a red ribbon from her pack and ties it around the rodent’s neck, then attaches a rope to it. “Come on Sniffer.” She tugs on the rope, but the rodent doesn’t move. She tugs harder. “_Come on Sniffer!_” The creature looks up at her, wiggles its nose, then ambles along beside her as she follows the others into the newly-cleared cave entrance.

Kel’ori jumps as she realizes that even the rodent was reminded it was time to go, but she’d been left behind with her hand mirror, fixing the gloss on her lips and adjusting her hair. She runs up the hill and blinks, landing just in front of the other mage. “Thought you could leave me behind, did you?”

Anarchaia in turn blinks past her. “Eager to get into lessons, hm?”

Kel’ori rolls her eyes and sneers. “_Actually_, I just don’t like being left behind. Because Kalec will know. And I’ll lose points. _I can’t lose points, okay?_”

Taveth blinks at his sister. “You actually do your homework now?”

“Most of it.”

Grimory glances up the path where another blockade has been stationed. The ground shakes as small explosions and impacts boom through the air following flashes of light. “They seem to be doing a well enough job without us.”

“Then I suppose you’ve chosen the wrong apprentice to shadow,” Anarchaia mumbles. She opens her mouth to reprimand the woman further, but is cut off by the jarring rattling of the earth and scrambles backward.

A demon crashes to the ground on the other side of the stone bridge and leers at the group. Turalyon gallops up behind them on his elekk, then leaps to the ground. “You go, I’ve got this one.”

Turalyon ushers them forward as he lifts his sword, but before he can make contact, a beam of light pierces the demon’s skull and it falls back onto the bridge smoldering.

“Saving your hide as always,” comes a heavily accented female voice behind them. A gloriously clad draenei woman trots up, hammer shining.

“Fareeya!” Turalyon grins and follows her down the bridge. “You’re alive!”

“As ever,” Captain Fareeya responds, slamming a felguard out of their path and sending it sprawling into a pool of lava.

The blonde mage hops sideways as blood splashes out, threatening her sky-blue robes. “This is just horrid! And you do this willingly?”

Taveth shrugs. “Not me. But it has to be done.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at her. “Someone has to fight these battles.”

Kel’ori grunts at them. “It’s not the fighting, it’s the— _Ick!_” She lifts her skirt and shakes a bit of squishing something from her shoe.

Anarchaia titters beneath her mask and sets to following the two in front of them. “This may work out yet.”

“Not a good place to be squeamish,” Grimory mutters, stomping through the pool as though it were water.

When the party reaches the small base of operations, the ground shudders under the weight of small, light-fueled explosions and massive demonic axes and swords. Turalyon and Fareeya make easy work of clearing them a path. After some conversing with the other soldiers, the Exarch turns to the group. “We need to secure the weapon before it’s ready to use. They suspect it’s across the scar, up that ridge. If you see Y’mera, assist her in seeing her way back.”

“And she looks like…?” Grimory grunts as an elbow jabs into his ribs by the masked mage at his side.

“She’s a mage. You couldn’t miss her. Good luck, champions.”

Alisbeth grabs Grimory’s hand and drags him toward a group of demons crowding to enter the area. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I see things that need killing!”

Taveth does a double take, then blushes as Fareeya glances over his journal at his sketch of her. “Heh. Sorry.”

“Flattering drawing. It’s okay.” She turns away to converse with Turalyon.

Kel’ori eyes her brother. “Interesting…”

Grimory allows himself to be pulled, then shrugs and runs ahead of her to pull her instead. Once near enough, he easily slices through the nearest spellcaster and her imp familiars.

Anarchaia sighs and sets a hand on a hip. She turns to Kel’ori and gestures to a group of incoming felhounds. “A small group like that shouldn’t be too much of a bother. Let’s see what you can do, then.”

Kel’ori takes a step back. “They look like dogs,” she complains. “I don’t like dogs. Why don’t you take this one?”

Alisbeth tackles an eredari to the ground and slices through its neck. She looks up and sees a swirling green and black crystal in the distance, the ground around it warped and glowing. “What’s that?”

Sorvos glares across the field at them. “Soul coffers. They’re collecting the souls of our departed and storing them, using them as fuel for their attacks.”

“Looks like something we could take care of,” Koltira says, unsheathing Byfrost.

“If you’d be so kind. It will allow our comrades to join the Light.”

Taveth makes one final note. “Is there anything we need to know about the weapon?”

Fareeya smiles down at him. “Oh! Yes. It will require fuel. The crystals were scattered in the crash. A few should suffice.”

“The shiny things?” Alisbeth asks. “_Shiny things!_” She runs carelessly out into the field to grab at the glowing golden crystals.

Anarchaia narrows an eye suspiciously. “These enemies are particularly small.” She glances over her shoulder to see her party rushing out onto the field and grits her teeth. “Come on, Kel’ori, I can’t see what you need to work on if I don’t know what you can do.”

Grimory blinks after Alisbeth and follows. “Wait, Ali! They might be radiating with Light energy!” He flies forward to cut her off, then stumbles as she careens into him. He laughs. “Seriously, you shouldn’t just go grabbing things, yeah?”

Kel’ori scoffs and stomps after the other mage. “_Excuse me?_ That’s not what this arrangement is, missy. You’re not my boss, _or_ my mentor. I’m _shadowing_ you. That means you do your thing and I _watch_.”

Taveth rolls his eyes behind his sister, then trots up to walk beside Anarchaia. <<Would be a real shame if we lost her somewhere, wouldn’t it?>>

Alisbeth presses closer to the demon hunter and grins mischievously. “I thought you liked when I grab things.” Her fingers slip into the top of his pants and she grips around his belt buckle.

“The letter said you required _world experience_ and that _I_ needed structure. Why else send you with me specifically if I wasn’t meant to teach you anything?” Anarchaia grits her teeth to Taveth. <<Not exactly a _shame_, no.>> An imp wanders into their path and squeaks an obscenity at them while casting a fire spell. Before it can throw it at them, however, it’s encased in a pillar of flames much larger than necessary to dispatch it. Anarchaia kicks its charred remains out of her way.

Alisbeth presses closer to the demon hunter and grins mischievously. “I thought you liked when I grab things.” Her fingers slip into the top of his pants and she grips around his belt buckle.

Grimory lifts his brows and smirks. “Well, I do, but not things that’ll hurt you.”

“Here? Honestly?” Anarchaia scoffs at the two as she passes to shatter a soul coffer with a spike of ice; light escapes from within and swirls up into the sky.

Alisbeth grins and wraps her arms around Grimory to hold him in place. “What’s wrong with here? Or there? Or everywhere?”

Koltira purses his lips. “Ali, stop being an exhibitionist. At least for now, please.”

“Jealous?” she asks.

He lowers his brow. “Hardly.” He stoops to pick up one of the glowing crystals. “This is what we need, ri— _Fuck!_” He drops the crystal to the ground and grabs his wrist to stare at his palm and make sure it isn’t actually burned.

Taveth gives the death knight a small grin as he slinks between all of them and picks up the crystal. He slips it into his bag and straightens. “Heh. Looks like a job for me.”

Kel’ori waits, her lips pursed as she pretends to listen to what’s going on. Finally, she turns to Anarchaia with a small sneer on her nose. “Actually, I’m here to keep you from doing stupid shit, apparently. It’s like a madhouse with you losers. Literally everything you do is dumb stupid shit that gets someone hurt or in trouble. You have no structure or leadership, _and_ apparently, you don’t even do your homework. So, I won’t be taking orders from a half-rate apprentice, thank you very much.” She sticks her nose in the air and stomps past, then stoops to pick up another glowing crystal, suspending it in a purple aura over her head.

Anarchaia jumps at Koltira’s expletive and is quickly by his side to inspect the damage. His wrist still in her hands, she jerks her head in Kel’ori’s direction. “_Half…rate…_” Her fingers tighten, harder and harder, as she restrains herself from trudging after her.

“Ahh. Ana. Breaking my wrist.” Koltira pulls at her hand, trying not to hurt her in return.

Grimory lowers his voice. “He’s right though. Here’s not a good place, yeah?” He pats her on the head endearingly, then leans to whisper. “Though if you’re really so eager, we can find someplace later.” He smirks and pokes at her nose. “If you’re good.”

Alisbeth grins. “The goodest. I promise.” Her grin turns into a grimace as she looks at Kel’ori. “Does that mean I have to be nice to my cousin?”

Grimory gives a quiet laugh. “I’d say, for the sake of less drama, yeah. Let’s keep it civil.” He turns to pick up a crystal of light hiding behind a rock, then tosses it in his pack. “Kill anything that looks at us, yeah?”

Taveth purses his lips and slowly backs away from the squabbling mages, his fists wrapped around the strap of his bag. _Literally any conversation with Thal’kiel would be less awful than this._

Anarchaia quickly releases Koltira. “Oh! I’m so sorry! Heh.” She sighs and rubs at the spot on his wrist with a thumb, then turns to destroy another coffer. “Let’s just get this done,” she mutters and pulls her hood up.

Taveth yipes and runs to Alisbeth as an eredari pair walk his way.

“Silly Tav,” she says, and unsheathes her axe. In one sweep she takes one’s head. The other dodges away.

Koltira sighs. “A little situational awareness can go a long way,” he mutters under his breath.

“Surely you don’t mean Taveth,” Anarchaia chuckles and lifts a crystal of light from its place in the dirt with magic. It flies over and nudges its way into Grimory’s pack.

The demon hunter jumps between Alisbeth and the remaining sorceress before the Eredari can finish casting. He groans as a ball of fire washes over his forearm, then rushes forward to run gashes into her stomach.

Kel’ori raises her hands and several Light crystals pop from the earth, shake themselves clean, then zoom to join the one over her head. “Is that one of those coffer things?” she asks, pointing over the next hill where demons guard a coffer.

Taveth smiles. “Good catch. Keen eyes are useful out here, you know.” He strides past her and she turns away from the others to smile at the compliment.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Alisbeth yells to no one. “Blow it up!”

“So you _can_ do magic.” The mage rolls her eyes beneath her mask. Anarchaia strides past Alisbeth and drives a spike of ice through the sorceress’s eye when Grimory spins her just right. “Yes, Kel’ori. Blow it up already.”

The demon hunter smiles and drops the corpse to the ground. “Good shot.” He shakes the blood from his claws.

“I suppose my two archery lessons are paying off.” She cranes her head at the sound of spells being cast. Upon seeing that it isn’t Kel’ori, she stands on her toes to look over the ridge. A Draenei woman sits near a far pool of lava, fending off hounds with arcane spells and ice. “I think I’ve found our mage.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and frowns, the small triumph gone. She turns to make a face at the other mage. By the time she opens her mouth, Anarchaia isn’t paying attention. Kel’ori mouths her anger and mutters obscenities. “Didn’t come here to be judged by little miss Khadgar pet.” She stomps closer to the soul coffer and throws out a weak arcane barrage. It hits the green crystal, causing cracks to form in the surface, but it doesn’t shatter.

Taveth purses his lips. “We need the last coffer.”

“Isn’t two enough—once Kel’ori gets that one taken care of…” Koltira says, following Anarchaia.

“But all those souls,” Taveth says.

“No, it’s not,” Grimory responds, furrowing his brow at Koltira’s coldness. He steps over and shatters the crystal Kel’ori had weakened. “I can’t help but empathize.”

Anarchaia makes her way through the scar, stepping over rubble and lifting any crystals that come in her path. A large demon clad in plate armor steps before her and smirks.

<<Going somewhere?>> He lifts his sword and swipes at the mage, but she leans away.

“I suppose I didn’t expect to get through this task easily,” she mutters and steps away from another slash. She retaliates with a spike of ice, but the demon lifts his weapon and it shatters against it.

Koltira runs after the mage and steps between her and the demon. “You should know better than to wander off alone,” he says to her over his shoulder.

Anarchaia purses her lips and sets a hand on her hip. “I was within sight.” She sends an arcane barrier over the death knight and the demon’s sword crashes against it, sending sparks flying. He growls and slashes at it again and again until it finally shatters, then sends a slice toward Koltira’s shoulder.

Koltira dodges, the sword screeching across the plate armor over his arm. He swings wide to take the demon’s sword arm off. “But not within my reach,” Koltira says. He winks at her.

Alisbeth squeals. “First person to find the last co—”

“Found it,” Kel’ori says.

Alisbeth deflates. “_I_ wanted to find it!”

Grimory chuckles and sets a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder as he passes. “What was the prize?” He steps over and blows emerald fire over the crystal until it breaks apart.

Alisbeth stops, a strange look on her face. “Um… I hadn’t gotten that far.”

Kel’ori rolls her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” She turns in time to see the other two fighting the demon. “Do your friends need help?”

The demon growls as the blade cuts deep but not enough to take his arm. He stomps forward and lifts his sword again but is met with a torrent of fire to his plate-armored chest. Steam billows from his cuirass and he cries out. Enraged, he swings wide and low at the two of them.

Anarchaia blinks away from the first swing and only narrowly dodges the second. “Now’s not particularly a good time for your charms,” she says, hiding her smile behind her mask.

Grimory looks, then shrugs and heads in the direction of the Draenei in the distance. “I’m sure they’d prefer to be alone anyway. C’mon, Ali.”

Koltira jumps back and chuckles. “Charms? Please. I’m just getting started.” He slashes forward with Byfrost, aiming for the demon’s legs to cripple it.

Grimory looks, then shrugs and heads in the direction of the Draenei in the distance. “I’m sure they’d prefer to be alone anyway. C’mon, Ali.”

Kel’ori cringes nervously at the lone two, then tentatively follows the others.

Alisbeth hops onto Grimory’s back. “So, we’re getting the glowing things for a weapon, right? How big do you think the weapon is? Who gets to use it? Do you think it goes _BOOM!_ or just kind of hums?”

The demon groans as the sword catches the soft, unarmored flesh on the side of his knee. He drops to kneel, then jerks as a spear of ice tears through his eye and into his head. The dirt unsettles around him as he falls to the ground, unmoving.

Anarchaia claps her hands against one another in a job well done. “There’s more to your charm than what I’ve seen? Exciting.” She smirks and turns to follow the others after seeing them go.

Koltira jogs after the mage and slips a casual hand around her waist. “Maybe you’ll never know.”

Anarchaia bites her lip while she grins. “Aw. Not even if we’re together forever?”

Grimory thinks for a moment. “Well it’s probably a weapon of Light, so…a humming boom? Maybe a crack. And it’s probably huge. Bigger than a cannon.” He runs forward to weave through the rocks, toward the draenei mage.

Kel’ori frowns indignantly. “Why don’t _I_ get a ride across? I really deserve one more than _Redblade_.” She glances at Taveth.

Her brother looks sideways at her. “Don’t look at _me!_ I’m not carrying you!”

Alisbeth sneers. “Then I don’t wanna touch it. You can touch it.” She plants a kiss in his blond hair.

Grimory smiles and slows as he nears their destination. “I doubt even I’ll be able to lift something that big. Maybe if I morphed…”

Archmage Y’mera finishes off the last of the ravenous felhounds and smiles as the group approaches. “Ah. Finally, some reputable-looking folk!” She pauses on Grimory and sneers. “Mostly.”

Alisbeth makes a face at the draenei, but says nothing as she slides from the demon hunter’s hips, keeping her arms wrapped around him.

Taveth smiles. “We were told to find you and collect these crystals for you?” Taveth says, opening his bag so she can see inside.

“We have some, too,” Kel’ori blurts, motioning between her own floating bundle and the demon hunter, as though desperate not to be left out.

Y’mera smiles and dusts herself off. “Yes! Excellent!” She motions up the path behind them. “They’re for the weapon. I was on my way to it when I was ambushed here. It’s just up the ridge.”

Grimory shrugs and turns toward the path, dragging Alisbeth along on her toes. “Awesome. Thanks.”


	10. Chapter 10

Grimory pauses. “Didn’t you just have a new pet? What happened to it?”

Alisbeth stares at Grimory like she has no idea what he’s talking about. After a moment, it dawns on her. “Oh! The little thingy, right? Um…” She glances around. “Stinker? Slither? Spitter?”

Koltira takes Anarchaia’s hand as he steers her to follow the demon hunter. “You really think you can stand me that long?”

Anarchaia joins in with her own torrent of fire. “I can stand you longer than you can stand me.”

Grimory chuckles. “We’ll see about getting you a pet when we get back. Something you won’t lose.” _Or accidentally kill._ He flinches as a series of purple missiles fly over the demon hunter’s head to collide with a huge demon. With a smirk he steps forward and blows verdant fire over the demon in an attempt to distract him.

The demon groans at the heat, covering his face with his arms until the flames subside. He swings at the thick of the party with his massive sword.

Koltira rushes forward to try blocking the swing, but falls just short as the long weapon slashes through the group. Taveth stumbles backward into his sister, knocking them both to the ground. Alisbeth screams out as her breastplate slits open, before it catches and rips her away, throwing the elf into a nearby rocky face. The rocks break free and crumble onto her. As she curls into a ball, she cries out, realizing through pain alone that the sword cut through her abdomen.

Not having expected the demon to recover so quickly and caught on the end of the swing, Grimory grits his teeth as the sword slashes diagonally over his torso and arm. Red immediately drenches his lower half and stains his armor. He stumbles back, growling in pain. _Ali!_ His arms mutate and he resists the urge to run to her, Illidan’s words running through his head. He instead lunges forward, dodging the backswing and flying up to blow more fire despite the agony.

The demon, stony faced, swings again, up and over to the ground to get the demon hunter and death knight in one sweep.

Anarchaia runs for the wounded death knight. “Ali!” She musters her magic and lifts the heaviest rubble from the elf. “Are you okay?!”

Alisbeth stumbles from the rubble, an arm over her middle as crimson spills over her lower half. “M’fine.” She unsheathes her axe and weaves forward, determined to join the fight. After a moment, she stops, and merely throws her axe at the demon. The weapon embeds in the back of his neck, freezing him in place for a moment before he crumples to the ground. “Not even that strong,” she says on a growl, then drops to her knees.

Koltira purses his lips. “It’s not quite dead, heal yourself.”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “He needs it.” She motions at the demon hunter.

Grimory lands gently and stumbles again but finds footing and straightens. “No. I’m fine,” he lies and turns to continue up the path before she can protest. “All yours.”

Anarchaia scowls after him. “It wouldn’t hurt to wear _some_ armor over your chest, you know,” she mumbles.

“Heal yourself, Ali,” Taveth says, helping Kel’ori up. He nods when he sees she’s unharmed, then takes off running after the demon hunter. On his way, he conjures a small yellow stone, then presses close to the taller man to block the others’ views. “Please, take it.”

Grimory glances between the stone and Taveth’s face. He takes the item and crushes it in a fist; the smoky dust it leaves behind flutters up and into his slightly parted lips and nostrils. His wounds, along with the partially healed burn from the previous day, close and mend. He casts Taveth a gentle smile and pats him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Tav. I owe you one.”

Alisbeth frowns and drains the last of the life from the demon. “Armor wrecked by a pathetic little nothing,” she mutters, standing to grab her breastplate and tuck it behind her arm.

Kel’ori slips the item from Alisbeth’s grasp. “I can…send this somewhere out of the way, if you need?”

Alisbeth snatches it from the air and hugs it. “No! I’m going to _wear_ it!” She huffs away and goes searching for the lost back of the cuirass.

Kel’ori stares at her hands and twiddles her fingers after she’s chastised.

Koltira goes to Anarchaia, a frown pulling at his lips. “That was my fault. I almost had it… I should have been faster.”

She sets a hand on the death knight’s forearm and smiles beneath her mask. “You did what you could. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” She notices Kel’ori’s demeanor after having dealt with Alisbeth and opens her mouth to tell her similar, but decides against it and follows instead.

“Heh.” Taveth waves off the man’s gratitude. “You’re the only one who’ll let me help. Ana avoids it like it’s a disease. Yay me. And I’m terrified Ali will, you know, maim me if she knew…” He sighs and shrugs. “Just…be careful.” He slows to let the man pass him.

Noticing Anarchaia’s glance, Kel’ori straightens and sets her face in a disinterested sneer. “What are you looking at, Khadgar’s Pet?”

The mage sneers in return and pushes past her. “Nothing much,” she hisses and heads up the path and toward at large, crumpled, golden device lying against the cliffside.

Kel’ori balls her fists at her sides and stomps to catch up with the others.

Grimory slows as he realizes Taveth isn’t beside him, then turns. He looks between Alisbeth and the warlock and shrugs. <<I think she’ll love you no matter what, but that’s your business.>> He holds out a hand to Alisbeth. “Need help getting that back on?”

Taveth nods, his eyes on the ground at his feet.

Alisbeth purses her lips as she looks at the two pieces. “The buckles snapped. Got any tape?” She grins up at the demon hunter.

“I do not. Guess you’re going half-…? A fifth-? -naked.” He smiles and pulls a token from his pack. A rune of Light flickers to life above it. “Hey. We found your weapon…thing.”

“Excellent!” comes a heavily accented Draenei voice from the device. “Locking onto your coordinates. Prepare for a fight. I doubt the Legion will be willing to lose their grip on the cannon.”

Anarchaia jerks forward with a yelp as teeth clamp around her ankle through her robes. She whirls, fire in her hands and backs away again as one of many felhounds leaps at her. The offending beast bursts into flames with a cry. “Rude.”

Kel’ori runs forward as the little beasts begin to swarm; lavender pulses radiate from her body and the creatures shriek in pain. Taveth is last to get to the others, and as he does, he turns, his eyes flashing to a darker purple. The fiends closest to him cry out in fear and run aimlessly as they lose their minds to the terror. He grips his satchel and backs into the group, surrounding himself with his friends.

Kel’ori purses her lips at Alisbeth’s armor and sighs. “I can help…”

Alisbeth hugs the pieces to herself. “Don’t touch.”

“I mean, I can fix it…” She straightens, consciously realizing how timid she was sounding. “Kalec is a master at restoring items to how they were, as he did Tav’s journals. I _know_ what I’m doing, Ali.”

“And if you break it worse?”

“I’ll buy you a whole new shiny set.”

“Just fix the fucking armor and focus,” Koltira growls as small demons swarm toward the patch of light under their feet. He drops his ring of decay beneath them and throws several purple tendrils out at once, gripping the demons into a collected pile.

Grimory does similar, dragging a few felhounds and a felguard into the center of a golden sigil. He drops a sigil of flame beneath them as well and, once he has them collected, breaths a cloud of fire over the lot. The hounds run off in burning agony, but the felguard slashes at the demon hunter with rage behind its helm. Grimory leans away and grabs the demon’s arm on the backswing, then takes it off at the elbow.

Kel’ori grunts as Alisbeth shoves the armor onto her cousin to join the fight. “This is heavier than it looks!” she says.

The death knight runs into the fray. “Just fix it!”

Anarchaia sets to work with her own ring overlapping Koltira’s. From the center spouts a torrent of flames and molten rock, obliterating a few of the minor enemies and effectively burning the larger.

It is only moments before the damaged cannon evaporates into a large beam of light and is gone, back to the Vindicar.

Kel’ori purses her lips and glances at her brother. “I can’t actually fix it on the fly,” she whispers to him.

He shrugs. “Get started?” He lurches to grab Anarchaia’s arm. “Look out!” A final felhound hops into the area to nip at the mage’s leg.

Grimory sinks his claws into the felguard’s exposed chest, then kicks him off when he’s stopped moving. He turns to a pack of imps and washes them with more fire, then smirks at the smell.

Anarchaia gasps as she’s yanked, then casts an embarrassed glance over her shoulder. “Thanks, Tav,” she mumbles with a blush and kicks the hound in the jaw when it nears again. It yelps and shakes off the impact before lunging again.

Kel’ori drops the armor and throws out an arcane blast at the hound leaping for the other mage. As the blast lands, Koltira spins and bring Byfrost up in and arc to slice the demon’s head off.

He smirks at Anarchaia and winks. “I guess I’m not the only one who can’t keep myself off you.”

The mage’s blush deepens and she waves a hand. “Stop, Koltira,” she sings through a smile and walks past him for the pathway.

Alisbeth turns her axe to smash the heads of the dead creatures with the fanged skull at the center. She laughs as they scream and the axe hisses for more.

The death knight man grins and wraps an arm at the mage’s waist. “You’re the one that wanted more charm. Now you want me to stop? Please, make up your mind. I’m getting dizzy.” Koltira chuckles.

Grimory sneers at the other couple then bends to pick up the dropped armor. “Here.” He holds it out to Kel’ori with a sharp grin. “You dropped this.”

Kel’ori blushes and takes the armor from the demon hunter. She gives him a long, flirtatious look. “Thanks, Grim. My hero.”

Taveth wrinkles his nose behind his sister as he looks between her and Grimory. “Yes, Grim, such heroics… Let’s go blow a hole into the Xenedar.”

Grimory chuckles. “If picking up things is all I need to do to be a hero…” He steps away and scoops up Alisbeth as she passes, then tosses her over his shoulder. “They’d better write songs about me.” He follows the other two back down the path.

Alisbeth giggles and wraps her hands around under his arms to hug against his back. “I think you’re very heroic! And Diori does, too!”

Grimory smiles to himself, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “You really think so?” he asks just quietly enough for her to hear as they find their way back through the golden valley.

Alisbeth pushes herself up to slide into his arms, her legs around his waist. She smiles into his eyes and holds tight to his arms. “I don’t see how she couldn’t.”

Anarchaia chuckles and sets a hand over his at her waist. “I didn’t mean now. Gods forbid we make the others jealous.”

Koltira spins the mage to press her chest to his. He lifts her mask and sets a kiss on her lips. “Let them be jealous. I refuse to treat you differently in public than I do when we’re alone.” He thinks on it as he sets her back at his side to resume walking. “Well, with our clothes still on, of course.”

Anarchaia hums against the kiss, then quickly pulls her mask back over her lips to hide her scarlet face. “Lewd,” she mumbles while biting her lip and tittering. She grabs his hand and drags him back down the ramp and toward the yellow scar in the earth.

Kel’ori sends the armor away and trots alongside Taveth to catch up. “If we can make camp or rest somewhere, I can concentrate on fixing the armor.”

Kel’ori sighs, staring at the back of Grimory’s head. “How do you deal with traveling with the cuddle bugs and the gropers?”

Taveth chuckles. “I honestly just ignore it. I’d hate to be the one to ruin something good for them.”

The mage sighs wistfully. “How’d cousin Ali get so lucky?” When she receives no response, she elbows him. “This is where you tell me he’s not that great and make me feel better.”

Taveth jumps a little and frowns. “If I said he wasn’t that great, I’d be lying. A little promiscuous, sure. Very…manly, I suppose? But he’s got a good heart. Especially for Diori. I had my doubts, but he proved himself a capable guardian.”

The mage _humph_s and folds her arms dejectedly. “Yeah, thanks for that. _Ugh!_ Why’s she so lucky?”

Taveth cocks an eyebrow at his sister but says nothing as they near where the rubble had been blown away by the weapon. Turalyon, Fareeya, and several lightforged draenei stand guard before the opening.

“Great job!” the paladin beams as the group nears. “Now we can go inside and rescue X’era before the Legion gets its hands on her.”

“Y’mera has also found her way back to the Vindicaar,” Fareeya explains and readjusts her hammer on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Turalyon regards them with a nod, grin unwavering. “You all may return to the ship as well. Fareeya and I will see to X’era. You all did magnificent work today.”

Anarchaia gives a quiet sigh of relief and turns with hands raised. Her robes swirl with the energy and a bright light bursts into being, a faint image of the main deck on the Vindicaar inside its glowing rim. “All aboard? Heh.”

Grimory sets Alisbeth down to pull her through the portal by her wrist, lest Illidan be on the other side. “Thanks, Ana.”

“Thank you,” Taveth says with a nod.

Kel’ori follows him, her eyes straight ahead as she refuses to acknowledge the other mage. On the other side, Kel’ori finds the cafeteria and obtains a meal, so she can eat and fix the armor in peace. Taveth sits near her, busy with updating his journal.

Koltira sighs. “Long trip already?”.

Anarchaia sneers at the blond girl and returns the sigh as he pulls her through. “I should probably have that talk with Master first.” She chuckles. “And I’m sure we still have things to do here…”

Koltira nods. “Yeah. Go have that talk. I’ll be right here. Somewhere. I thought I saw a map of the world up on the console, I think I’ll go study that. Meet me there when you’re done?”

Anarchaia nods and smiles. “Study, hm? I knew I loved you for a reason.” She leans up to press a kiss on his lips through her mask and waves as she makes her way down the staircase.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a smile. “I gotta talk with Lord Illidan, yeah? Can I trust you not to cause mayhem?”

Alisbeth pops into attention, her body ridged as a soldier’s. “Sir, yes, sir.” She smirks and winks at the Illidari as her hand reaches to wrap around his and squeeze.

Grimory lifts his brows and smiles, squeezing back. “I’m always worried when you wink.” He messes her hair and makes his way for the stairs as well. At the bottom he spots a familiar blond ponytail. “Eophen,” he greets with a wave.

The Draenei looks up from his conversation with his sister and smiles. “Grimory Silversong. How goes?”

“Well. For the most part.” He glances down the hall and sees the Nighthearts sat at a table through the doorway to the mess hall. “Hey, you know that guy who’s face you like?”

Eophen flashes a nervous glance to his sister, then follows Grimory’s gaze. “Ah. Yes.”

The demon hunter nudges him. “You should go talk to him.”

Eophen turns to respond but Grimory is already walking away with thumbs tucked in his belt loops. He gives an apologetic smile to his sister. <<I have a friend I need to speak with. I’ll be back downstairs in a bit, yes?>>

The shorter Draenei girl gives a suspicious nod. <<All right, but if father gets upset it’s on you.>> She pokes him in his large chest and chortles as she turns for the stairs.

Alisbeth smiles at Grimory. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Grimory says with a smile. “Just a friend.” He stops outside the door to the control room and scratches at the back of his head nervously. “All right. I have to check in. Stay out here, yeah?”

Alisbeth sighs and leans against the wall, her arms folded. “_Fine._”

~ * ~

Eophen makes his way to the dining area and steels himself before striding up to the table where Kel’ori and Taveth are sat. “Still here, are you?” he says with a smile, leaning on the tabletop across from them. “How are your studies?”

Taveth smiles shyly and fidgets with this pen. “Um, yes, um… I’m doing, I mean, my research is going well. Heh.”

The mage cocks an eyebrow at her brother, then smiles up at the draenei, her eyes lingering on his large muscles. “Hi there. I’m Kel’ori.” She offers a hand to him.

Eophen blinks his bright yellow eyes before giving a soft smile and taking her hand in his with a delicate shake. “Charmed. I am called Eophen.” He swallows to avoid clearing his throat. “How do you two know one another?”

Kel’ori waves dismissively. “Don’t worry, he’s just my little brother. Tell me, what do you do around here? I bet it’s something _amazing_.”

Taveth shrinks and returns to his books, giving the draenei one more glance before allowing his sister to work her charms.

Eophen lifts his eyebrows and gives a quiet chuckle, hiding the relief in his chest. “I maintain the engine with my father and sister. It is nice to work so close to family, yes?” He aims the question between the two, hoping to catch Taveth’s attention.

The blonde girl shrugs. “We’ve only been working together for a day, so far. Keeping my baby brother safe out there. He’s kind of useless in combat situations. I, however, am a very skilled mage.”

Taveth’s ears turn a shade of angry pink as she describes him as _useless_. He purses his lips as she continues, then closes his book as loudly as possible. “Yes, so useful. All you’ve done is shriek at the sight of blood and mouth off to Anarchaia. And let’s not forget throwing yourself at Grim!” He stands and collects his things. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, Kel, but you’re just a shallow brat, as usual.” He straightens and casts an embarrassed look to Eophen. “I’m sorry. It was…nice seeing you again. I-I mean, if it was n-nice for you, that is… I… Excuse me.” He takes a few steps and sits just one table away, his back to his sister.

Kel’ori frowns and stares at her hands and the half-mended metal at her fingertips. She then smiles as though not bothered by the minor outburst. “Sorry. He gets a little…” She clears her throat. “So, what were you saying?”

Eophen glances quickly between Taveth and Kel’ori multiple times, then sighs as the scholar trudges off. He sets a hand on his hip and gives a crooked grin through scarred lips. “Nothing important. I should be getting back before father comes looking for me. It was nice meeting you, Kel’ori the _very skilled mage_.” He waves as he turns. “Until next time.”

Kel’ori stands abruptly, holding out her hand. “Oh, no. Please, stay. I could use a good conversation. You could tell me how the engines work, I’ve been curious about it since arriving.”

Taveth makes a face. “No you haven’t,” he mutters. “Probably wouldn’t understand the process by which they utilize Light magic by harnessing the explosive capabilities and converting it into energy, anyway.” He purses his lips as he looks down at his notebook, noticing he’d inadvertently drawn Eophen smiling. He blushes, and though he wants to, can’t turn the page to hide it.

~ * ~

Grimory steps inside the control room and into the shadow of Illidan Stormrage. He gives a curt bow. “The fight goes well, my lord.”

Illidan turns his head slightly but does not turn around. “Silversong. Still carrying the extra weight, I see.”

Grimory’s jaw tenses. “Yessir.”

“It’s ultimately your head. Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself.”

The blond demon hunter bites his tongue. “Yessir.”

“Well done on the field all the same. Keep up the good work.” Illidan turns back to the console as though the entirety of the conversation hadn’t just happened.

Grimory gives another brief bow. “Thank you, my lord.” He turns back around and exits, a scowl on his lips.

Alisbeth smiles as Grimory exits. “Told you I’d stay put!” She calms and then frowns at the expression on his face and the tension in his stance. “What happened?”

Grimory does his damnedest to muster a smile. “Nothing. I’m starving. Want to come with me to grab something to eat?”

Alisbeth doesn’t smile in return. She fidgets as a knot forms in her throat. “It’s okay to lie to me. If it makes you feel better.” She takes his hand. “I’ll sit with you while you eat.”

A pang of guilt strikes Grimory in his chest, but he remains quiet. He takes her hand in return and pulls her toward the stairs. Just as they reach the mess hall, Eophen is bustling from the room with a distressed look on his features. “Woah,” Grimory stops him with a hand. “What happened? You all right?”

The Draenei shifts and gives a forced smile. “Absolutely.”

“Great, come sit with us, then.” He motions for the man to follow and turns before he can get a response.

Eophen fidgets, then sighs and follows. He ignores the awkward air as he’s forced to sit at the table he’d just escaped from. “The Illidari insists I stay.”

Grimory grabs a plate of questionable meat from the kitchen staff behind the counter and sets himself at the table as well. “A shame there’s no ale up here, yeah?”

Alisbeth nods absently, her brow furrowed between her two cousins.

Taveth looks over his shoulder at the demon hunter’s voice, then notices the draenei’s return. He closes his book and takes a breath. _You can do it. Just go talk to him. Now. Right now. Go talk to him. Any minute, now._ The elf freezes and sighs at himself.

Kel’ori leans her chin on her palm as she looks between the two muscular men. “Uh-huh. It is a real shame. Buy you a drink, if I could.” She winks at Eophen.

“Oh, uh, I do not partake in such beverages,” the Draenei chuckles, the tension easing some.

“Good. I’ll take yours, then.” Grimory gnaws off the end of a bone sticking out of the cut of meat on his plate and presses his knee to Alisbeth’s below the tabletop. He smiles at her. “Sure you don’t want some? It’s…palatable.”

Alisbeth gives a small smile. “I bet it’s made from rodent.” She physically jolts in shock. “Are you eating Sumpter?”

Grimory blinks slowly at her, then continues crunching. “It’s possible. He’s tasty.” He licks his lips with a mutated tongue and smirks.

Alisbeth frowns deeply. “He was our pet, Grim. We were supposed to raise him together! Like a _family!_” She over-emphasizes her indignance, holding back a laugh as she keeps her face straight.

Kel’ori nods at the draenei. “Oh, yes, I don’t drink, like, ever. I just thought that if you wanted a drink I’d buy you one.” She smiles eagerly.

Eophen gives the girl a smile and rests a cheek on his knuckles. _I somehow don’t believe that._ “Then what is your idea of a good time?”

Kel’ori smiles and blushes. “Ehm. I…like to…read. And, um, I spend a lot of time with Master Kalec.”

Grimory returns the straight face and slowly brings the meat back to his mouth. He takes a bite and is sure to draw out the tearing as he pulls it away. “Greasy meat must be hereditary then.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes. “Because you’re slimy?”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows. “You would know,” he says with a smirk. “You tell me.”

Eophen glances toward the door—to what once was his escape—and sighs through his nostrils. “Reading is a good hobby. Knowledge is important in all aspects of life.” He smirks, deciding that he can get closer to Taveth by becoming closer to his sister. “This Kalec is a lucky man…or woman.”

Kel’ori giggles. “_He_ is my mentor. He teaches me about being a mage. Of course, it _is_ strictly platonic.” She leans closer to the table and gives the draenei a slightly sultry look.

Taveth’s lower lid rises up as he listens to his sister. _Does she even realize she sounds ridiculous?_

Eophen resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It is also good to build professional relationships.” He glances to Taveth. “And you? Do you have a strictly platonic Master?”

Taveth turns as he realizes he’s being addressed. He smiles shyly and turns all the way in his chair. “I don’t have a ‘master’, no. I’m a scholar, and so I have a benefactor. He pays for my travels and my needs in exchange for the research I’ve compiled. It’s rather refreshing getting the chance to leave the library and see these things up close and be the one writing the books instead of just copying what others have written.” When he finishes, the elf is leaning forward, a smile of excitement on his face.

Eophen grins at the man’s enthusiasm. _Cute._ “You are ambitious enough. I am sure anything you write will be eagerly read by many.” He chuckles. “If you ever have any questions about Argus or the Vindicaar, I am always eager to assist…”

Kel’ori sighs and bites into a noisy vegetable that cracks between her teeth like a carrot. She resumes work on the armor, her eyes narrowed with determination.

“I actually have about a _million_ questions, and can only get so many answers from…other sources. Maybe you— You wouldn’t mind if— I mean, if it’s no bother? Heh. Just…when you have a second, of course.” Even though he insists on a later date, Taveth’s hands instinctively collect his journal and pen.

Eophen gives a hearty chuckle. “I _did_ offer. You are not imposing. What is it you would like to know?”

Alisbeth leans in close, then licks all the way up the side of the demon hunter’s face. Her expression deadpan, she says, “You’re one slimy rat, Mister Grim.”

Grimory stares at her for a moment before bursting out laughing. “You sure you’ve gotten a good sample? Might need more testing.”

Alisbeth leans closer, then lowers her lips and sets them to his neck to lick and nibble in the crook of it.

A blush crosses Grimory’s cheeks and he stops chewing. His slit pupils flick to the others to ensure they aren’t paying attention and lowers his voice. He swallows. “Well?”

Alisbeth grins against the demon hunter’s skin. “Perhaps to judge meat, I should taste meat.” A light flashes through the room and Alisbeth jumps, her eyes wide.

Taveth and Kel’ori pop to their feet, grabbing their things to them. The elf frowns at the draenei. “I’m sorry, this’ll have to wait.”


	11. Chapter 11

Anarchaia asks the nearest attendant for the direction to Archmage Khadgar’s quarters. She makes her way down, through a corridor, then back up to a hallway lined with doors made of Light. She stops before the number she’d been given and knocks on the wall beside it rather than risking touching the door. The door flickers and disappears.

“Hey,” she regards with a nod as she steps inside.

Both Khadgar and Aethas Sunreaver look up from their reading materials.

“Ana,” the human says with bitterness in his voice. “How is your excursion fairing?”

Anarchaia folds her arms as the door flickers back to life behind her. “I think you know just how well it’s going,” she mutters, “but that’s not what I’m here for.” She softens some and glances at the elf. “I don’t mean to be rude, Aethas, but would you…?”

Aethas gives a dramatic sigh and claps his book closed. “I guess,” he hisses and throws his helmet over his head before leaving the two alone.

Khadgar furrows his brow after the door shines back into its frame. “What’s this about? Perhaps you’ve come to ask me to open a channel to Modera so that you can apologize for leaving her with all that paperwork.”

Anarchaia flinches and shakes her head. “N-no. I was…looking for some information, as it were.”

Khadgar sets the text he’d been reading down on the table beside his humble bed. He sits up. “About?”

The smaller mage swallows and rubs at her upper arm. “Ehm,” she stammers, his attitude causing her courage to wane. “U-undead…childbearing.”

A flicker of irritation gleams in his blue eyes but his voice remains calm and collected. “I’ve told you, Ana, there’s only been one reported case and the details were very scarce.”

“I know. I was just wondering if there’d been any advancements or newfound evidence of—”

“Is this about yourself and Deathweaver?”

Anarchaia stops. She fidgets with her fingers. “Yes.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve known one another for, what, six months? And you’ve been discussing children?”

She purses her lips and her shoulders raise. “When you don’t sleep, six months feels like six years. And it doesn’t particularly matter whom it is I’m discussing this with.”

Khadgar runs a hand over his hair and he struggles to keep a level head. He throws his legs over the side of his bed but does not stand. “Ana, it’s impossible. It’ll never happen. You have to understand…”

“I-I know, but I thought—”

“No!” He stands, fists clenched. “You _aren’t_ thinking!”

She shrinks away as though he’d struck her. “I—”

“Do you understand the implications of what you’re trying to do? The chances of the child dying—if you even _are_ successful—would be nearly one hundred percent. The threat of _yourself_ dying is also incredibly real.” He pauses, jaw tense. His voice lowers. “You’d have to abandon your studies.”

A tear soaks into Anarchaia’s mask and she swallows. “I-I could come back after…”

“After what, Ana? After the however many years it takes a half-elf to grow to maturity? After that death knight deems the task too heavy or not worth his time to stick around until the end and you have to raise it alone?”

She scowls. “Koltira would never.”

“I’m not helping you.” He glares. “If this is something you truly want, acquire the means to do it for yourself.”

Anarchaia rubs at her nose and swallows a sniffle. “Fine,” she chokes and turns. “Thank you.” The door dissipates upon her approach and she wraps her arms around herself as she swiftly walks down the corridor.

Khadgar sighs and lowers to sit again, head in his hands.

~ * ~

Once back in the correct end of the ship, Anarchaia finds Koltira where he’d said he’d be and swiftly sweeps up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist and push her wet face into the back of his cuirass.

Koltira weaves his fingers through hers, hugging her arms to his sides for a minute, before he turns to her. “So, how was Khadgar?”

Still holding back sobs, Anarchaia sniffles and buries her face in the front of his armor instead. “Bad.”

Koltira removes his glove and strokes the cheek of her mask with his thumb. “Did it rain in his quarters, or are you crying?”

Anarchaia sniffles again and tightens her grip so he can’t pry her off. “Raining.”

Koltira wraps his arms around the mage and slowly walks away from everyone else with her. “Tell me,” he urges.

Anarchaia inhales. “He…_yelled_ at me.” Her brow furrows as she struggles not to cry at the mere memory fresh in her mind. “He’s never yelled at me like that.”

Koltira grips her tightly, his fingers tangling in the hair on the nape of her neck as he pulls her closer. “Any idea why he’d yell at you? Anything I can do to fix it?”

Anarchaia hesitates, not wanting to divulge. She eventually gives in and rubs at her good eye. “He doesn’t want us to try to conceive.”

Koltira purses his lips. “It’s because of me. Because we barely know each other, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Ana, this is all my fault. I’ll…talk to him or something.” He rests his lips on the top of her head and sighs.

Anarchaia shakes her head. “Please don’t. It won’t do us as any good.” She tilts her head back some to look up at him. “Nothing says I have to take what he says to heart. I want to try, and he can’t stop me.” She pauses. “Do you think we haven’t known one another long enough?”

Koltira sighs and takes the mage’s hands. “I feel like we’ve known each other much longer, Ana. Years, even. And I don’t think we’re in any way obligated to rely on some other person’s interpretation of time, when they’re not the ones in our shoes, living our lives.” He sets a curled index finger beneath her chin and looks where her eyes hide behind the mask. “I want to do this. With you. Fuck Khadgar and fuck the rest of the world.” He glances around and smirks. “Both worlds.”

Anarchaia can’t help smiling. “Watch your language,” she whispers and sets a hand on his wrist. “But yes, I agree.” She wipes the remaining tears from her cheek. “You always know just what you say. Thank you.”

Koltira chuckles. “Fine, I’ll watch my language.” He sets a soft kiss to her lips through the mask. “If I didn’t know what to say, would you still be with me? I mean, it’d get boring, or annoying. Downright aggravating, I’m sure.” He glances around. “Think there’s any vacant rooms around?”

Anarchaia titters behind her lips and shakes her head. “I’m attracted to more than just your way with words.” She blinks and tilts her head. “Oh? Why? Are you tired?”

Koltira laughs. “Oh, I am. I’m so absolutely tired that I may need you to accompany me. You see, I’m not supposed to sleep, and I’ll need someone to keep me awake. Know of any ways you could—” He stops as the bridge is suddenly in bustling motion. Draenei carry in huge chunks of glowing stone then arrange them on the floor. “Is that…X’era?”

Anarchaia nods and watches as the final pieces are placed. In flashes of bright light, Turalyon and Alleria appear beside them and promptly push past the couple. Hoofsteps fill the room as Illidan makes his way up the stairs to serve witness as well.

Together the others in the mess hall race for the stairs and go to the main chamber. Taveth gasps and immediately begins drawing the Naaru.

The High Exarch takes a knee as the pieces lift into the air and assemble to their rightful form. “We are truly blessed to be in your presence once more, X’era.”

“Turalyon,” the Naaru says in her calm, dreamy voice, “you have found the chosen one.”

Turalyon turns as he stands, then gestures for Illidan to come forward.

“From birth,” X’era continues as Illidan approaches, “the light in your eyes has held such promise.”

“I sacrificed that birthright long ago,” Illidan grumbles.

“Do you not wish to reclaim what was lost? To be whole again?”

Illidan pauses. “The Legion’s end is all I seek.”

“Child…” X’era’s voice takes a subtle note of pity. “You’ve given so much for so little.” A sparkle of light flits out from her being. “Your true potential—your redemption—lies before you. Let go of your shattered form…” The light swirls around the half demon and he takes a tentative step away. “…and embrace the Light’s power.”

“I’ve traded my freedom for power before,” Illidan growls through his fangs.

“The prophecy,” X’era continues, louder, “_must be fulfilled._”

The glimmering light surrounding Illidan manifests into a tightly binding lasso. It grips him and lifts him from the floor. He kicks and struggles to free himself.

“Your old life has passed. The Light will forge you a new one.”

Grimory pulls his ears back at the sound of Lord Illidan’s voice booming from down the hall and up the stairs. The bench, if it weren’t for Eophen’s weight, nearly falls as he pushes to his feet. Hastily grabbing Alisbeth by the wrist, he runs up the stairs and skids to a halt just as Illidan is bound.

“No!” he barks, fists clenching at his sides as he watches.

Anarchaia grips Koltira’s arm tightly, unable to look away as the others look on with wide eyes.

“It is not yours to take!” Illidan yells, still trying to break his bonds.

Light creeps up over his verdant tattoos, shining brightly from his violet skin. “The Light will heal your scars.”

“_I_ am _my scars!_”

“The Light is your destiny.”

“My destiny is…my _own!_”

Black and green swirl around the demon lord like smoke. His bonds fall away and a beam of vibrant fel energy bursts from his eyes. The beam buffets X’era in her center, harder and harder, until finally her form cracks and shatters. The group near the stairs shields their eyes from the resulting explosion, and when they are able to look again, Illidan sits, breathless on a knee, in a sea of golden shards.

A wave of relief washes over Grimory when the Naaru bursts into pieces. He sighs his held breath.

Turalyon stomps forward, unsheathing his sword. “You doomed us all!” He swings in an arc, meaning to take Illidan’s head. “_Betrayer!_”

Illidan lifts a hand and stops the blade with a palm. “Your faith has blinded you,” he pants. “There can be no chosen one.” He glares up at the human through his blindfold. “Only we…can save ourselves.”

Turalyon wrenches his blade away. Blinded by anger and anguish, he growls and turns for the stairs. His wife follows closely behind, offering calming words as they descend.

As the events unfold, Taveth pales, writing it all down with a heavy hand. Beside him, Kel’ori is crying, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“He killed her,” the mage gasps. “She was so beautiful…”

Anarchaia blinks, fresh tears in her eye. She suddenly scowls and slowly stomps forward. “That wasn’t necessary!” she growls as Illidan stands once again.

The demon lord scowls down at her, standing his ground. “Necessity is subjective. If I hadn’t—”

“_There’s always another way!_” she continues and lifts her hands, but is abruptly cut off by the hulking form of Grimory. She breathes heavily, fighting sobs. “Move, Grim!”

The demon hunter merely shakes his head. “Don’t, Ana.”

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?” She lowers her hands when she gets no response, hurt and anger welling in her chest. She gives a cry of frustration and turns for the stairs.

Kel’ori grabs Anarchaia by the wrist to stop her. “No, Grim. Ana’s right, and you know it. She wanted to _help_ and you…you…_obliterated_ her!” She wipes at her eyes and heads down the stairs with Anarchaia.

~ * ~

Alisbeth drops to her knees and scrambles to pick up the pieces, hissing as they burn her skin. “We can save her, right? We can put her back together? We-we can g-get her back. Right? Yeah? W-we can fix her and she can come back!”

Koltira goes to Grimory and sets a hand on his shoulder, then looks at Illidan. “We are our scars. It’s no one’s decision but our own to have them wiped away.” He knocks his knuckles against the center of his breast plate. “I don’t think I’d ever wipe this one away.”

“Everyone deserves a choice,” Grimory merely mumbles after the mages. He turns at a clawed hand on his shoulder and is met with Illidan’s smoldering gaze.

“You, of all people, should know the weakness of women. Let them go.” The demon lord regards Koltira with a slight nod of approval but does not smile. “Indeed, we are.” He turns, wings swaying, and makes his way through the broken pieces—crushing one under a hoof—to the other set of spiraling stairs.

Grimory sighs and regards Koltira with the faintest of smiles. “Thanks.” He goes to Alisbeth and drops to a knee to take her hands away from the pieces. “She’s been back before.” _Not from something like this, though…_

Ignoring for a moment that it’s not his place, Koltira eases the pieces of Naaru from the death knight’s other hand, then cringes at the black spots forming on her palm from exposure to such pure Light. “Why do you care so much?”

Alisbeth frowns and lets out a small sob. “Because if she can fix Illidan, then she can fix me. Right? She could fix me?”

Grimory’s face softens and he grabs Alisbeth by her upper arms. He pulls her into an embrace. “Ali, you can’t fix things that aren’t broken.”

Koltira stands, nodding at the demon hunter in respect. He stops and takes in the slightly ghostly Taveth, who’d stopped writing mid-sentence and now his pen is leaving an ugly blotch of ink spreading through the paper. Koltira lifts the pen and left the elf to his statuesque state.

Alisbeth grips the demon hunter tighter. “I don’t want to be dead anymore, Grim. I don’t want to have white hair or blue skin. I want to be alive and warm, like you.”

Grimory pets the back of her head. His heart breaks just the slightest bit and he sighs. “Maybe one day, Ali. But she was not the answer. You have to believe me.”

Alisbeth nods, but remains unconvinced. “If you say so.”

Grimory stands and pulls Alisbeth with him. He frowns at the sight of Taveth. “You okay, there, Tav?” he says with an air of lightheartedness, trying to break the mood.

Taveth glances at the demon hunter, but says nothing and otherwise doesn’t move.

Alisbeth sniffs and giggles, keeping herself tangled with Grimory. “Tav needs a drink, I think. Hey! That rhymed!”

Grimory inhales loudly and nods. “I think so, too. C’mon, Nightheart.” He hooks his arm beneath Taveth’s and drags them both down the stairs toward the portal. “We can get you some new armor while we’re out.”

Alisbeth bounces in excitement, no trace of her former upset on her face. “I want shiny armor, like a Paladin. Oh! I want that stuff!” She points at a lightforged draenei making his way up the stairs past them.

Taveth hums in minor acknowledgement of the other two, but keeps his grip on his book and pen.

Grimory chuckles and drags them to the portal. “I don’t think you’d want that armor. It’s lightforged.” He pauses and glances around, wondering which tavern to go to. He ultimately decides on familiar ground and heads for the Legerdemain Lounge.


	12. Chapter 12

“This is why you’re Khadgar’s student. You’re so smart.” Kel’ori tries to hide her own sobs in her words and uses her sleeve to wipe away her tears.

Anarchaia pauses near the bottom of the stairs. “I’m his apprentice by circumstance,” she says quietly on a sigh and turns. She pulls Kel’ori into a hug at the sound of her weeping. “It’ll be okay.” Her embrace stiffens at the sound of approaching hoofsteps.

Illidan returns her glare from the corner of his eye as he passes and makes his way coolly down the corridor.

Kel’ori bristles and squares her jaw after the Illidari lord. She wipes her eyes and regards Anarchaia with a soft gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ve been being…a bitch. I know. I just… the other mages are so mean about you and I was just afraid…to…” She takes a breath and looks at her feet. “I was afraid to like you because of what others would say about _me_.”

Anarchaia, though still bitter, smiles. “That’s okay. I understand your need to be accepted even if it’s by means of someone else’s expense.” She gives the girl’s arm a pat and sighs. _She doesn’t seem to know why the others hate you. That’s good._ “I could definitely use a drink after that…” She turns for the portal to Dalaran at the back of the circular chamber.

Kel’ori stares at her feet and nods. “I have to agree. Drinks sound great. I mean, I’m not inviting my…self…” She stares after the other mage and fidgets.

Anarchaia stops and casts the woman an endearing smile over her shoulder. “Come.” She stops again when she sees Koltira rounding the bend in the stairs. “Drinks? Heh.”

Koltira sighs, holding back his desire to try and explain his own feelings and hope Anarchaia could see the reason behind what Illidan did. He nods and turns to follow. “Drinks are always a good choice.”

Anarchaia leads the two through the portal and heads straight for the nearest tavern, her shoulders and fists unintentionally tense at her sides. She wordlessly takes up a seat at the bar and requests their strongest drink.

Kel’ori and Koltira take up seats on either side of the mage, neither willing to speak first, except for ordering their drinks.

Finally, Koltira sets his hand at the small of the mage’s back. “I know you’re upset, but it can’t be changed, now.”

A wide, forced grin crawls across Anarchaia’s lips as she lifts her mask. “I’m not upset!” she chirps quickly and drinks the entirety of her cup in one go before requesting another.

“Ana,” Koltira begins, then sighs and relents, sipping his own whiskey.

Kel’ori eyes them but remains quiet as she makes slow work of her fruity mixed drink. After a while, she sets it down. “Tav makes it better.” She eyes the man behind the bar, hoping he didn’t hear.

Anarchaia pauses as she immediately brings her second drink to her lips. “I’m not upset,” she says in a quieter, more collected tone. “Just…disappointed. And sad.” She throws down the rest of the alcohol in her glass and promptly requests a third. She smiles to Kel’ori at her side. “He does.”

Kel’ori smiles back at the other mage, then takes a drink and frowns. “So…what now? We rescued X’era, risking our lives to do so, only for _that_ to happen and…now what? Is this it? The end? Get drunk and kiss your ass goodbye?”

Anarchaia furrows her brow, not particularly wanting to talk about what just happened but clearing her throat all the same. “I-I don’t know.” She turns back to her drink and, instead of draining the glass, takes a tentative sip. “Maybe… Maybe Illidan was right. Maybe we just need to forge our own destinies. Maybe the prophecy was all bunk.” She swallows, ignoring the burning. “Not that I particularly believed in it to begin with…”

“I just don’t see how we can be okay with the destruction of something so…good. So holy.”

Koltira purses his lips over at her. “It doesn’t matter how good or righteous something is, Kel’ori. No one can tell us our own paths. After being held under the sway of the Lich King for nearly a decade, I can say, without a doubt, I would have fought anyone else deciding my fate, too. We’re not puppets. We’re people. With our own will and minds.”

The blonde woman purses her lips. “We’re all entitled to our opinions.”

Anarchaia grits her teeth at the tension and drinks the rest of her beverage. When asked for another, she requests he leave the bottle. “I-…” She pours her own glass of the pure grain alcohol as she struggles to find words. “I know that she…shouldn’t have done what she did…” She grimaces at the thought of Illidan’s face, had he heard her say that. “But there’s always another way that doesn’t involve death.” A scowl crosses her face as she drinks. “If Illidan were a smarter man he’d have known that.”

Koltira sets down his glass harder than he intended. “So, what should he have done instead? He was bound! She wasn’t listening! There was nothing he _could_ do. What options did you see in that moment? I saw none.”

Kel’ori fidgets, her eyes wide on her drink. “I think we should just drop the subject.”

Anarchaia jumps at the sound of his glass and turns to him. Her grip tightens around her own and she struggles to hold her tongue. “He could have _incapacitated_ her! Reasoned with her! I won’t deny that what he did he did in self-defense but in a situation such as this…”

“So, I hear they’re hosting dance parties in the auction houses next week,” Kel’ori blurts. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” She takes a nervous drink.

“Ana, how do you incapacitate a god?”

The undead girl narrows her eyes. “I imagine it’s a lot easier than murdering one.”

Koltira growls. “You still haven’t given me any good examples of—”

“_And a fashion competition next week._” Kel’ori says loud enough to shut the death knight up. “I’m going to sign up. Would you guys like to go with me?”

Koltira narrows his eyes across the bar at the elf.

Anarchaia jerks her head to look at Kel’ori as though just remembering she was there, then relaxes some and drinks her drink. “Sure,” she finally says. “I’ll go with. I’m not very fashionable so I won’t join, but I’ll cheer for you.”

The blonde girl smiles. “I like your robes, though! Just wear them.”

Koltira sighs into his glass as he finishes the contents. He leans to put an arm around Anarchaia’s waist, then presses his lips near her ear. <<I’m sorry for losing my temper. I shouldn’t have done that.>>

Anarchaia forces a smile to the girl beside her. “Thanks. They’re not as nice as yours, though. More of a necessity than a fashion device.” An alcohol-fueled flush crosses her cheeks when she feels Koltira’s breath on her neck. A bubbling of thoughts rears its head: X’era, Khadgar, the agony of her body breaking against the cliffside, Diori, the dead magnolia tree. She swallows the urge to, in the heat of her emotions, turn and chastise him more, but sighs. <<It’s okay,>> she responds in Gutterspeak. <<I’m sorry, too.>>

He presses a kiss to her cheek. <<It’s not okay. I was supposed to help you feel better. I only made you feel worse.>>

Kel’ori smiles and looks down at her neat, pale blue robes. “Thank you. It’s my favorite color, actually.”

The emotions ripple away as he kisses her and she sets a hand on his thigh. <<It’s not necessarily your job to make me feel better.>> Anarchaia gives the girl a coy smile. “Oh? Is that so? Why is that?”

Koltira frowns. <<Maybe I think it should be my job.>> He signals for a refill of his drink.

Kel’ori shrugs. “I just really like it. Do you have a favorite color? Red, maybe?”

Anarchaia chuckles at the girl’s answer. _Nothing to do with Kalec?_ “Blue is actually my favorite color, too.” She grabs Koltira’s face with a hand and turns it to face Kel’ori. She presses her cheek to his. “Like Kolt’s eyes.”

Kel’ori’s eyes go wide. “I actually have robes that color! I, um, I could tailor them for you? If you want. I never wear them, anyway.”

Koltira grunts, then pulls free of her grasp to go for his refilled drink.

Anarchaia titters when Koltira pulls away. “I would actually like that. Do you know of any good enchanters in the area? I haven’t checked since my go-to died.” She smiles to the death knight beside her. <<Taking care of my emotions is a job too big for you I’d think. You’d sooner slice my head off.>>

<<I rather like it attached, though.>> Koltira smirks, reaching over to rub his palm along the bare side of her neck.

Kel’ori fiddles. “I’m an apprentice enchanter, actually. Kalec suggested it. He said it goes well with the skill of restoration. But I apprentice under this priest. She’s kind of…different.”

Koltira blinks around Anarchaia. “Straight bangs, black hair, speaks in one tone and looks sad?”

Kel’ori jumps. “Yes! You know her?”

“Isn’t that the woman who healed Ali the other night? On a dare?” Anarchaia says with a lowered eyebrow.

“The very same,” Koltira says.

“Docra. She’s just…I think the best word for her is morbid? Yeah. Not a very priestly person at all.” She sips her drink and cringes. “Ugh, where’s Tav when you need him? I could seriously use a bookworm.”

Anarchaia lowers her voice and fidgets some. “Uhm, do you know if she knows…fire suppression charms?” She conjures a nightcrawler and drops it into Kel’ori’s glass with a grin as though a trade for the information.

Kel’ori sniffs the worm. “Did you just hijack this from behind the counter?” She sniffs again to confirm, then downs the alcohol-soaked nightcrawler after chewing quickly before the barkeep looks their way. “She does. She knows everything. Seriously. Like, she knows things that other enchanters are still just learning about.”

Koltira’s nose wrinkles. “Is that worm _really_ so fantastic?”

Kel’ori’s eyes round in shock. “You’ve never eaten the worm?”

Anarchaia cringes at the idea as well. “I’ve not eaten it, either.” She drinks straight from the bottle she’d bought and stifles a cough, the alcohol content now much more noticeable without the cushion of her anger. “Do you want one?” She smirks over her shoulder at Koltira.

“Do it,” Kel’ori urges. “It won’t be so bad for you, I know because Thass’n-Thnash—” She giggles. “It hits _super_ fast!” She teeters in her stool, then catches herself. “Oops! Uh, yes, death knight. Orders them all the time. Tav had to restrict his drinks, cause he got toasted off three.” She giggles again and sips her drink. “Hey!” She yells at the bartender. “HAY! Make this like Tav does!”

The bartender gives the girl a stern glare as he shakes a cocktail.

Koltira’s eyes widen at the other mage. “Maybe _you_ shouldn’t eat the worm.”

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows and laughs. She leans her back to his chest and turns to whisper. “She’s only had one drink. I think they do something to those worms here.” She grabs the side of the bar to steady herself and sip her own drink. “You sure you don’t want one?”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “I would, but someone has to stay upright to walk you ladies home.”

“Back already? I knew Argus couldn’t handle you.” Gildwynn casts a smile up at the three, stein in an oily hand. He blinks his bright cyan eyes. “Oh. Who’s the blonde?”

Kel’ori grins wide and reaches a hand out to shake his, but slides from the stool and lands to sit on the floor in front of him. She laughs and holds her hand up again. “Kel’ori Nightheart, good sir. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. Please tell me your name is ash cute ash you are.”

The death knight purses his lips at her behavior on the floor. “I’m almost insulted. I’m the _only_ male she hasn’t flirted with.”

Gildwynn jumps as the woman falls in a heap before him. He wipes his hand on an equally oily leather sleeve and shakes hers with a blush. “Gildwynn. I think I’ve seen you around before. I own the engineering shop over on fifth…” He looks up at the other two. “How many had she _had?_”

“One,” Anarchaia chuckles and leans back to smile at him, breath laden with vodka. “Perhaps because she knows you’re way out of her league,” she says quietly in his ear, the back of her head on his shoulder. “Or perhaps because she knows I’ll incinerate her.”

Koltira pulls the mage’s stool closer with the toe of his boot and wraps his arms around her. “I’m not sure about out of her league, but I am sure you’d incinerate her. This mage doesn’t share.”

Anarchaia sets a hand on her hip and straightens. “You’re damn straight I don’t.” She takes a long drink of her bottle and swallows it quickly. “And you certainly are. Don’t degrade yourself.” She turns to run a finger through one of his tresses.

Koltira chuckles. “You stop, first.”

Anarchaia uses the same finger to poke him hard in his cuirass. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She hiccups into the back of a hand.

Kel’ori grins and gives an excited chirp. “I bought rockets there for the New Year! Didn’t see you there, though.” She leans in close to him. “Try the worm. It’s fantastic.”

Gildwynn’s blush darkens and he gives a chuckle. “My apprentice handled the shop that night.” He lifts a pierced brow at the smell of her breath and holds out a hand to help her back to her feet. “If it does to me what it’s clearly done to you, girlie, I’ll pass. I have work in the morning.”

Kel’ori frowns with an exaggerated pout as she gets to her feet, clinging to his hand for support. “Oh, shame. Are you sure? You’re not leaving, are you?”

Gildwynn glances back at his table of friends with a nervous grin, then clears his throat. “I mean, I guess…that’s twelve hours from now, so…” He shrugs and takes up a seat on the other side of Kel’ori’s with little effort.

Kel’ori slips onto her seat, deceivingly gracefully. She leans toward him in a way that emphasizes her cleavage. “So, tell me about your shop.”

“What if I tell you to rescue your friend from Kel’ori?” Koltira chuckles and discreetly points at the two.

Anarchaia leans over just in time to catch Gildwynn glancing at the breasts near his face, then leans back with a laugh. “I don’t think he wants me to!” She gets closer to him with a smile, running her finger down the crease in his breastplate. “Plus, she can’t bother us, then.”

Koltira chuckles in the mage’s ear. “Are you sure? I thought you two were bonding. Becoming girlfriends and all that.” He slips the bottle from her hands and takes a drink, then cringes. “Oh, wow, you’re really getting trashed.”

Anarchaia takes the bottle back and presses it to her chest as though he’ll take it again. “I’m going to drink until I don’t remember the last three days.” She drinks to prove her point, then rips the bottle from her mouth to cover her lips as it threatens to come back up.

Koltira hums in disappointment. “Mmm. So drunk that I fear anything I try would simply be taking advantage of you.”

Anarchaia laughs after gathering herself. “_Taking advantage?_ How are you so certain I wouldn’t enjoy that? In which case would it—_hic!_—truly be considered _taking advantage of_?”

Gildwynn swallows, a drop of sweat beading beneath his jaw. He chuckles. “M-my family’s owned it for thirty years. Survived both attacks. My father owned it before me but died in the second attack. So, it’s mine now. Heh.”

Kel’ori gasps loudly. “My dad owns a tavern in Stormwind and he’s had to rebuild _something_ every time the city gets attacked. It’s so nice that you’ve kept it running.”

Gildwynn tilts his head slightly and his ears lazily sway. “A tavern, eh? I’ve been thinking about buyin’ one, but I can barely keep an apprentice and one employee in line let alone an entire staff.” He laughs. “How long have you been a mage? Don’t recall when I first started seeing you around…”

Kel’ori smiles down at the goblin and twirls a finger through her hair. “I’ve been around, though I haven’t been in Dalaran long. I began my studies, I think, eighty years ago?”

“Eighty years? Impressive. You must be a great mage.”

She leans forward to tap his nose. “What about you? Do you do anything besides…tinkering?”

Gildwynn blinks as his nose is poked. He gives a chuckle and sips from his stein. “I’m an inventor, really. It’s more my passion.”

She giggles slowly. “I bet you’re _really_ good with your hands.”

He smooths back his feathered, sandy blond hair. “And I suppose you could say that…”

Kel’ori blushes. “I wouldn’t say I’m _great_, but I, too, know how to use my hands.” She bites into her bottom lip, eyeing the low level of his drink. “Can I buy your next round?”

Gildwynn’s eyes slide from his drink to the flushed face of the girl before him and a sharp smile spreads across his lips. “Sure, doll. Just skip on the worm, okay?”

Kel’ori laughs and hails the barkeep. “No worm, got it.”

Gildwynn downs the rest of his stein and surrenders it to be refilled when prompted. “So, I take it you’re a friend of Ana’s?”

The blonde girl crosses one leg over the other to lean an elbow against. “I like to think I am. Though, we’re really just together by request of our mentors.” She leans even closer to whisper, “I think she’s starting to like me.”

The lump in the goblin’s throat jerks when he swallows at the closeness. “She’s pretty easy to get along with. Heh. Who’s the big man over you? Milhouse? Modera?”

“Kalec, actually,” Kel’ori says. She sips on the drink she’d abandoned, then pinches her face, remembering why she’d abandoned it in the first place.

Gildwynn lifts his eyebrows. “Oh, the blue-haired guy. Nice fellow. I’ve actually made a few things for him. Ahh…” He snaps his clawed fingers as he thinks. “A vacuum box for preservation…and I’m pretty sure it was him that asked for the paperless journal?”

The blond elf nods. “That all sounds very familiar. Do you get many strange requests? The paperless journal, I mean.” She wets her lips. “It really is genius work.”

Gildwynn’s face turns a dark violet and he chuckles. “Eh. I suppose that depends on what you mean by _strange_?”

Koltira chuckles and holds the mage in her drunkenness. “M’lady, if you’re too drunk to stand, it is taking advantage.”

Anarchaia leans forward to press her cheek against the neck of his cuirass, nearly spilling her bottle. “I give you direct consent to take advantage of me, then,” she mumbles with a grin and a chuckle. Her smile then slowly fades and she draws figure eights on his chest. “It’s not fair, you know.”

“What’s not fair?”

Anarchaia chews on the inside of her cheek and squeezes her arm through the space between their chests to take a sip. “I don’t deserve such a nice guy, to be honest,” she says into the neck of the bottle. “You apologize, you care about my feelings, you like spending time with me, you don’t boss me around…”

Koltira slips the drink from the mage’s hand and sets it on the bar. “I think you’ve had too much of this, you’re starting to see things completely wrong.”

Anarchaia scowls into his armor and blindly gropes for the bottle without lifting her head to look. “No I’m not. It’s all true. You’re perfectly prettier than me.” She pauses to swallow a hiccup. “You’re talented, smart, funny, protective…” Her voice trails off into silence until finally she sighs. “And you haven’t been unfaithful.”

Koltira blinks. “Have _you?_ Or is this something else?”

Anarchaia looks up at him and scowls. “O’ course not,” she says lazily and pouts. “Can’t you just let me fawn over you?”

Koltira chuckles and lifts the mage, then throws her over a shoulder. “Okay. You’re done. Let’s get a room at the Legerdemain.” He nods at the two and gives Gildwynn a sly wink. “Enjoy, you two.”

The goblin blinks as the two pass, then pulls his ears back and blushes an even darker shade. “U-uh. You too…”

Kel’ori bites her lower lip and giggles. “I would love to _enjoy_ you a little more.” She brushes her fingers through his blond hair.

A dreamy look passes over the goblin’s face and, with pointed teeth, he bites his lips as well. “Perhaps it’s my turn to buy you a drink.” He eyes her half empty glass. “Something you’ll actually like.”

She gives him a sultry look. “I’m not sure a drink is what I’m interested in right now.”

Gildwynn’s ears pull back and he gives a sheepish grin. “R-really? I don’t usually get this far. Heh.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I…have a place…”

“You can show it to me…if you want,” Kel’ori says, her eyes half-lidded as she looks at him through her eyelashes.

Gildwynn quickly downs the rest of his stein and throws the exact amount of gold on the table—including tip—and hops down from his seat. He lifts a hand and again eyes his friends in the corner staring at him with mouths open. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Kel’ori blushes as she follows his gaze to their audience. She bites her lip and takes his hand. “Friends won’t miss you?”

Gildwynn waves his other hand and leads her out into the dimly lit streets. “Fuck ‘em. I see ‘em every day.” Hiding his nervousness, he directs them to the district where his shop sits.

~ * ~

Anarchaia weakly grabs for her bottle as she’s hauled away, but her fingers brush against it and it topples over behind the bar. The bartender scowls but she makes no sign of noticing.

“_Nooo_,” she whines and kicks her legs. “Not drunk enough!”

Koltira chuckles, not accidentally holding her still by her rear. “Any drunker and you’ll pass out before all that advantage-taking I was given permission to do.”

Anarchaia ceases struggling and decides instead to go limp, the world swirling around her. “I wouldn’t pass out…” she mumbles and folds her arms.

Koltira slips his hand dangerously high up her inner thigh and wiggles his fingers. “Still awake back there?” He laughs, carting her into the Legerdemain Lounge, stopping only to get a room for the night.

Anarchaia bites her lip and crosses her legs to lock his fingers there. “Sure am,” she says, then perks as she sees a couple of blonds nearing the staircase. She shoves up from Koltira’s shoulder and smiles, waving. “Taveth!” She reaches for the man’s hand. “Why’s Grim carrying you? Did you get—_hic!_—hurt again?”

“No,” the demon hunter responds. “He got trashed again.” He lowers a brow. “Like you.”

Taveth holds up a fist as though in victory and gives Anarchaia a tired, sick smile. “Woo-hoo! Ana, we’re trashed! And look! Escort service!” He jerks a thumb at Grimory, then flops his head down to giggle at the demon hunter’s back.

Anarchaia hisses and falls back to claw at Koltira’s armor like a trapped cat. “I didn’t request an escort, though.” She pouts again.

Koltira sticks his tongue in his cheek, resisting his comment. He is unsuccessful as he starts to laugh. “You two off to have the same kinda night as us?”

Grimory shoves past the death knight and rolls his eyes. “Only if your plan is to set her in bed and leave her there.”

Taveth reaches for the mage as they pass, grabbing at her hands. “I’ll save you!”

Koltira purses his lips down at the man’s hands.

Anarchaia clumsily grasps Taveth’s fingers for only a moment before Grimory carries him too far away. She pushes off Koltira’s shoulder again to call up to him. “Taaaav,” she groans. “I gotta ask you somethin’ later. Don’t…let me forget…” She lets herself fall back over the death knight’s shoulder.

Koltira opens the door and drops Anarchaia onto the bed. “Starting to think you’d rather spend the night with _him!_” He reaches up her robe to find the top of her boot. “At least I wouldn’t have to be jealous.”

Anarchaia grunts as she hits the down-filled mattress. She blinks at him and pouts again. “Not the…the night. I just wanted to ask him something…” Her head falls back into the pillow and she covers her face when the room spins. “Tomorrow…”

Koltira chuckles and lays beside her once her boots are off. “Do I get to know?”

Anarchaia curls up at his side and rests a hand on the front of his armor. “Was gonna ask…about a book.”

Koltira smirks and pulls her closer. “Must be an important book.”

“About babies,” Anarchaia mumbles and presses her face into his neck; his flesh feels icy against her burning cheeks. “And the like. You think he has some?”

Koltira looks the mage in the eyes. “You’re not backing down? Even after Khadgar?”

Anarchaia scowls and shakes her head. “Nn-nn. It’s been twenty years…if he’s not going to promote me I…I may as well just leave anyway.” The thought causes her right eye to sting with tears. “And do what I want…”

Koltira chuckles. “Well, I’ll support you no matter what. You’re a more than capable mage. There’s no reason to remain an apprentice.”

Anarchaia sniffles and pushes closer to him. “Sometimes I wonder.” She peels off her mask to rub at her eye. “What would you do…? If we were successful, I mean…?”

Koltira blinks. “The obvious answer is take care of you. So I’m going to go with the obvious answer.” He smiles and sets a kiss on her nose.

Anarchaia groans and brings her hands up to squish his cheeks with her fingers. “_Stop being so perfect,_” she whines. “Tell me I’m crazy. Disagree with me. Call me stupid.”

“Uh…” Koltira stares at her, eyes slightly widened. “You’re…crazy… I disagree with you… I’m not calling you stupid.”

Hurt fills Anarchaia’s eye and she pouts again, retracting her hands. “I’m _crazy?_ And you _disagree with me?_” She covers her face to fake a sob. “So mean!”

Koltira’s eyelids lower. “Should I just say nothing?”

The mage spreads two of her fingers to look up at him and smiles. “I’m only playing with you.” She leans over to kiss his cheek. “But seriously, it’s okay to disagree with me sometimes.” She bites her lip and her grin widens. “_Sometimes._”

Koltira purses his lips. “Ana, I’m not going to disagree with you when I don’t. You’re asking me to lie to you. What’s so wrong with agreeing all the time? I thought women liked being right!”

Anarchaia taps her lower lip as she thinks. “I suppose there’s—_hic!_—nothing wrong with being agreeable…” She smiles. “And we _do_ like being right. So you can’t argue with me when I tell you you’re perfect.”

Koltira makes a face and shakes his head. “No such thing as perfect.” He sighs and stares at the ceiling. “I was promised some advantage-taking.”

Anarchaia lifts her brows and leans up on an elbow. She runs a finger up his cuirass and smiles. “I always keep my promises.”

~ * ~

Grimory opens the door to Alisbeth’s room and closes it before Taveth has a chance to respond. He sets the man down and takes off Taveth’s shoes. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”

Taveth flails weakly. “I had to tell Ana that I love her! Lemme go tell Ana I love her, mm-kay? And that I won’t forget she… She has to…smell something.”

Grimory pushes Taveth back down when the man tries to get up. He can’t help chuckling. “You love her, huh? I’m sure Kolt won’t like that.” He pulls the blankets out from beneath him and covers him with it. “And it’s _tell_. Not smell.”

“Right. Tell. She has to smell a tell, er, tell me a smell tell… Smell me a tell?” He stares up at the ceiling. “D’you think he likes me?”

Grimory lifts his brows at the question. “Koltira? Probably not after you played grabby-hands with the love of his unlife.”

Taveth blushes. “No. Never mind.” He stares at Grimory for a long beat. “Does Alisbeth know how lucky she is?”

Grimory blushes as well, then clears his throat as his brain scrambles to respond. “I-…I’m sure she’d beg to differ, yeah? I mean, she’s had a tough life…”

Taveth shakes his head. “She has you. So luck…y…” He pulls the blanket to his chin and closes his eyes. “Everybody needs a Grimory.”

Grimory furrows his brow down at Taveth’s sleeping figure. He runs a palm over his mouth and turns to leave him there. After locking the door behind him, he returns to Alisbeth on the couch downstairs. “Passed out. Heh.”

Alisbeth smiles and snuggles into the demon hunter, her nose a dark purple from drink. “He’s gonna hate himself tomorrow.”

Grimory chuckles. “That’s what I told him. He didn’t seem to care.” He sips at his drink, still unable to shake Taveth’s words. A sigh passes through his nose. “I miss Diori.”

The death knight frowns. “Me, too. We should ask Tav to bring her back for a day. Just…get away from duty and be a sort of family for a while.”

Grimory cringes at the thought of Illidan finding out of such a plan. “Eh…perhaps we should finish our duties first. Er, _my_ duties…”

Alisbeth scowls. “Yes. Right.”

The demon hunter catches her expression and knits his brow. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it, but I have to…”

“Yes,” Alisbeth says simply. “You have to.” She takes a long drink of her cinnamon whiskey.

Grimory’s furrowed brow moves upward at the middle and he frowns. “You…don’t want me to.”

She pats the demon hunter’s cheek. “It’s okay. Diori will be there when we’re done. Right?”

Grimory grits his fangs behind pursed lips and resists another sigh. “Right.” He drinks the remainder of his ale. “We should have gotten Taveth a room. Now where will I sleep?”

Alisbeth gives him a silly grin. “My bed is pretty big.”

Grimory sneers at the thought of crawling into bed with Taveth. “Yeah, I’ll pass.” He traces the length of the handle on his stein with a thumb and looks at nothing in particular. “Do you wanna know what he said to me?”

Alisbeth cocks her head to the side. “Drunken nonsense?”

Grimory pauses as he contemplates divulging. “He said you’re lucky…for having me.”

Alisbeth smiles and sets her cheek to his shoulder. “Do you think I am?”

The demon hunter furrows his brow as she misses the implication. He chews on the question. “No,” he replies simply.

“Good thing your opinion doesn’t matter!” She leans up to kiss his cheek, then cuddle against him. “I don’t deserve you.”

An old voice rings through his head, saying the same four words. His brow knits further as he stares at the floorboards. “That’s not true.” He sets a hand on her knee. “But you’re sweet.” He gives her a halfhearted smile.

Alisbeth shakes her head so her nose goes back and forth on his cheek. “Nu-uh.” She stands abruptly. “Let’s get you a room. Are you tired? You can sleep. I’ll watch over you. Okay?” She digs into her pouch for gold.

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly at the suddenness. “Oh, uh…yeah, actually.” He stands with her and returns the empty cup to the bar. “You don’t have to pay for me…”

She drops her money on the counter. “Too late! One room please!”

Arille looks at her, an eyebrow raised. “Ali, you live here.”

“My cousin is drunk and asleep in my bed and Grim doesn’t want to share the bed with Taveth, even though I could just squish in between them like a divider so they don’t end up cuddling, and then I’d be an Alisbeth sandwich!”

Arille makes a face, then slowly takes the gold and swaps it with the only remaining room key.

Grimory resists a laugh but cannot help snerking as he turns. “I don’t think he’ll ever get used to you.”

Alisbeth frowns up at him. “What do you mean? What’s there to get used to?”

He ruffles her hair and leads her up the stairs. “Nothing negative, I assure you.” he says with a smile, then blushes some at the familiar noises coming from the other side of a door they pass.

Alisbeth bites her lip at the noises and looks up at him. “Giving you inspiration?”

He lifts his eyebrows down at her, then smirks as he unlocks the door to the room they’d rented. “Implying I’m ever _uninspired_?”

The death knight bites her lip harder and drags him inside by his belt buckle. “I think you’d better show me just how _inspired_ you are, Mister Grim.”


	13. Chapter 13

Kel’ori opens her eyes to the morning light shining in through a window. The pungent smell of oil hits her and she blinks, then turns to look beside her on the bed, where the goblin lays. “Oh!”

Gildwynn blinks awake, then sits up and rubs at an eye with a knuckle. He glances over, then pauses. “Oh,” he echoes, then smiles. “You’re here still. Usually girls as pretty as you think it best to get outta here asap.”

Kel’ori gives a shy smile and holds the sheet over herself as she sits up. “No offense, but usually I do. Not that it’s because of _you_, I just have a no-sleepover policy.” She laughs absently at herself. “That was…one intense nightcrawler.”

The goblin gives an award chuckle and glances at the clock on the other side of her. He stands from his low-lying bed and throws on his leather breeches. “I could tell. You had one and were on the floor. Heh.” He grabs a fresh shirt from his wardrobe. “Uhm, you drink coffee at all?”

She bites at her lip and searches the floor for her lacey underwear and brassiere. “Are you asking me out or offering me a cup?” She giggles as she pulls her robes toward her with a toe.

He avoids looking to give her privacy despite the previous night. “Well, unless you have a favorite place…” He presses a button on the wall beside his bed and pipes whir to life along the eaves, puffing steam in places. “Though, not to brag, but I import bags from Booty Bay.” He buttons his leather vest.

Violet magic swirls around the silk-covered buttons running up the back of the mage’s robes—each one slips through its designated loop and, once secured, gets almost lost against the fabric. “I _love_ Booty Bay coffee.” She stands, looking for her boots. As she crosses the room to grab one, she trips over a device against the wall, but catches herself on the bed. She laughs and holds her head. “That can’t have been a normal nightcrawler. Ana’s trying to kill me,” she says jokingly.

Gildwynn crosses the room to grab the cup of coffee already steaming beneath the machine. After setting a couple of cubes of sugar on the plate as well, he strides over to hand it to her. “You trusted Ana with a drink?” He chuckles. “That was your first mistake.” He glances at the clock again, then quickly gets to work lacing his boots.

Kel’ori follows his gaze as she sips the coffee with the sugar in it. “Oh, is that really the time? Ugh. Do you mind if I finish this? I swear I’ll be gone after that.” She sips at the coffee, then blows an icy breath over it to cool it the smallest bit.

The goblin flushes a slight tint of purple. “You ain’t gotta rush,” he says with a slight smile. “You’re, uh…” He clears his throat as he straightens and makes his way over to the vanity to throw water in his hair. “You’re welcome anytime. Heh.”

Kel’ori smirks and sits, crossing one leg over the other. “I may have been out of my mind, but I remember last night. I might just have to _stop by_, again.”

Gildwynn pauses while running product through his hair, staring incredulously at her reflection in the mirror. “Are you sure you aren’t still out of your mind?” he says quietly, then straightens as a knock rings through the room from the stairwell. “Uh, excuse me. Heh.” He makes his way down and opens the door. “Oh. Ana.”

The mage smiles down at him, though he cannot see. “Good morning, Gil.” Her smile turns to a smirk. “Kel’ori wouldn’t happen to be here, would she?”

The goblin flushes and hesitates. “Y-yeah…actually.”

Anarchaia swallows a titter. “Could you tell her to meet us at the Lounge in fifteen?”

Gildwynn’s ears pull back and he gives an uncomfortable smile. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” the undead girl sings and turns to leave.

The goblin closes the door and makes his way back up the stairs. “Eh…knowing the acoustics of my apartment, I’m assuming you heard that.”

Kel’ori sets the cool backs of her fingers to her cheeks, hoping they aren’t as flushed as she feels. “I suppose I should head on over… Unless you can think of something better to do in fifteen minutes than be early to meeting up with someone.” She gives a small laugh, then swallows the last of the coffee.

Gildwynn’s ears turn a dark purple and he chuckles, embarrassed. “Not sure fifteen minutes is long enough for me…” After finishing with his hair and cologne, he slides a leather sleeve over his non-dominant arm and buckles it underneath. “Uh…maybe we could…heh.” He swallows and adjusts his collar nervously. “Do this again…? Sometime…?”

Kel’ori sets her coffee aside and pulls her blue boots just above her knees, her eyes on him as she smirks. “Are you sure I’m the mage you want stopping by?”

He knits his sandy blond brow and clears his throat, then straightens and sets a hand on a hip. “Yes. Yes I am.”

Kel’ori stands and goes to him. She bends and kisses his forehead. “Then I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you again. You know how to find me.” She winks and is gone in a flurry of lavender sparkles.

Gildwynn deflates some when she’s gone, and, with a sigh, grabs his keys and makes his way down the stairs. A calico cat leaps onto the railing of the stairs outside as the goblin nears and cries for pets. He runs his palm over the animal’s head and smiles as he rounds the banister to head toward the front of his store. “C’mon, BilgeCat. Shop ain’t gonna open itself.” The cat chirps again and leaps down to follow.

Anarchaia perks as Kel’ori appears in the lounge. “Hey,” she says with a smile. “I bet _you_ have a headache…”

Kel’ori lowers herself gracefully to a stool and smiles amicably. “Only a little. Thanks to you.” She gives a soft laugh.

Taveth scowls his way to the stool beside his sister. “What did Ana do to you?” He asks quietly. “Tea,” he whines at Anarchaia.

Alisbeth skips to the couch in the corner, her hair dripping wet.

Not far behind her, Koltira comes down, his hair also still wet. He goes to the mage and takes his place beside her. “Oh. Wow. You two look very much worse for the wear.”

Anarchaia conjures two cups of steaming water as well as a mixture of briarthorn tea overtop them; the mixture drops inside. “I…may have given you the wrong kind of worm. Heh.” She glances at Koltira and smiles. “Have a nice shower?”

Grimory makes his way down the stairs, styling his hair with fiery hands. “Oh, good. We’re all here already.”

Taveth narrows his eyes at the mages. “What color was the worm?”

“Was lonely, but yes,” Koltira says, idly checking the buckles of his armor.

Alisbeth grins up at the demon hunter. “Yep! I went to my bank last night and got new gear!” She lifts her helmet up and barely holds back a scream of excitement. “And I found this at the auction house!” She jams the brass-colored item on her head and jumps up and down. “I have horns, now! Look at my horns! They’re black! _I have horns now!_”

Kel’ori and Taveth hiss and shush her at the same time.

Grimory chuckles at her enthusiasm and pats her on the shoulder. “Like a true hunter. Ready to go? Got your hearthstone?”

Alisbeth digs into the black satchel she’d grabbed to match her new jet-black armor set. “Got it.”

Anarchaia shrugs to Taveth. “It was dark in the tavern.” She then smirks to Koltira. “Oh. You all didn’t shower together?” She gestures over her shoulder to the other couple and sniggers.

Koltira smirks. “Nope. Be kind, I bet Grim was sad.”

Taveth smacks his lips. “There’s two kinds of nightcrawlers. One is your usual brown, but the other is just the littlest bit purple and glows faintly. Please tell me the worm was not glowing.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and says nothing as she turns away to sip her tea.

“Congratulations, you tried to kill my sister. A shame you weren’t successful.” He mutters the last bit at his cup.

Kel’ori hits his arm and hot tea spills onto his hand. He sets the cup down to shake his hand and cool it in the air.

The undead girl chortles to her partner. “Oh, I bet he was. Bet he’d have given anything to be in my place last night.” She gives a sheepish grin to the siblings. “_Trying_ implies intent.”

Koltira chuckles in the mage’s ear. “He couldn’t handle being in your place.” He blinks. “That sounded pompous.”

Grimory overhears and scoffs but says nothing. “Just hold it in your hand when you’re ready and visualize where you wanna go, yeah? I assume you’ve used one before…”

“Like this?” Alisbeth grips the stone, her eyes closed in concentration. Then she disappears.

Grimory pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Just like that.” He grabs his own stone from his pack and, in the same fashion, is gone the next moment.

Taveth smiles at Anarchaia. “There are two kinds. It’s why we keep them in clear jars, but we don’t label them. The regular ones are for regular patrons. The others are strictly for the undead. They’re much more potent, because of enchantment. Otherwise we’d go through ten just for a death knight to feel the same effects as a living being. We don’t get much call for them in Stormwind, but I imagine up here or in Horde taverns, they’re requested often.

Anarchaia’s grin grows nervous as Taveth continues talking. Her eyes flit between him and his sister. “Uh…Oh! Honest mistake. Silly me. Hahaha.” She lifts her brows and sighs, turning to Koltira as though he’s a distraction. She smirks and lowers her voice, leaning in close. “Is it pompous if it’s true, though?” Through her mask she places a kiss on his lips.

Kel’ori smiles and holds back a laugh. “It was honestly insane. Extremely fun, but insane.”

Taveth raises his eyebrow at her. “You’re not planning on doing it again, are you?”

“Oh, no. Gods, no. That was too drunk too fast, for me. I will, however, demand you make my drinks for all of life.”

Koltira chuckles. “Well, it’s a good thing you _can_, then.” He looks around. “We’re down two members…”

Anarchaia looks in the now empty corner and jumps. “Oh! Right!” She digs in her belt for her hearthstone and shrugs to the Nighthearts. “I can’t open a portal several thousand miles away, so…”

Kel’ori frowns. “I didn’t get one of those. I could get _myself_ there, but be completely drained for a bit.”

“There’s a portal on Krasus Landing,” Koltira says. “It’s Light magic. Hurts my kind, but you should be fine using it.”

“Oh!” She finishes her tea in one gulp and smiles, then quickly hugs the mage with one arm. “Thanks for the tea!” She disappears in a flurry of sparkles.

Taveth cocks an eyebrow at Anarchaia. “You two seem…close.” He digs for his own hearthstone.

Anarchaia blinks as she’s hugged, then gives another anxious chuckle. “I guess she kind of agrees with me…about Illidan.” She looks at the stone in her hand and sighs. “I honestly don’t want to go back,” she mutters, deflating.

Koltira hugs Anarchaia. “In this case, can I agree with you?”

Taveth purses his lips at his stone. “My job isn’t done.” He squeezes the stone and disappears.

The mage smiles up at the death knight. “I suppose. Just this once.” She frowns as Taveth leaves, then steels herself before kissing the man before her again. “See you there.” Her form swirls out of existence.

Grimory folds his arms and taps the toe of his boot as the others appear one-by-one. “That’s five,” he says when Anarchaia joins them.

Kel’ori pops in from the room to the side. “Okay, let me just get one of those stones and I’m ready to go.” She makes for the innkeeeper.

Koltira peers around the room. “Let’s talk to Turalyon; see what he’d like for us to do next.”

Anarchaia nods to the other mage, then to Koltira. “My turn to agree with you.” She smiles and heads for the stairway to the upper platform where Turalyon, Alleria, Arator, and Khadgar are conversing. She steps in, meekly toying with her fingers. “Uh, Y-your Radiance.” She avoids her teacher’s gaze as does he hers. “We’ve returned for your next orders.”

Turalyon, more somber than his usual self, looks between her and the rest of the party. “I’ve not much left for you in this region. Illidan has made his way to the Antoran Wastes to the west. I’m sure he’ll have something for you there.”

The mage nods. “Yessir. Right away.” She turns to Koltira and grits her teeth as she descends the stairs. “More Light travel…”

Koltira watches Anarchaia for a minute. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, he smirks. “Um, Ana?” He motions at Romuul, the draenei waiting patiently by the domed map in the console. “I know you hate Light travel, but walking away won’t get you there any faster.” He gives her a sly wink.

Kel’ori lifts the skirt of her robe and runs down the curved ramp and to the other mage. “Got it. Ready to go,” she says, breathless. She turns her sights on the others. “Same place as before?”

“I’m going to get—” Anarchaia cringes as Kel’ori comes running up to her. “Never mind. No. We’re off to Antoran Wastes today. To talk with…_Illidan_” She sighs and turns to Koltira, looking between him and Alisbeth. <<And watch your volume, please.>>

Grimory also looks at Alisbeth. “Sorry, darlin’. More meat grinder. Think you can handle it?”

Alisbeth grins slyly at Anarchaia. “Why do you hate Light travel, Applebees?”

“Because it’s disorienting,” Taveth says before anyone can reply. “I honestly fight to get my bearings every time. It’s also very bright. I, too, would prefer not to use it.”

Alisbeth’s smile falls. “Oh. Wait, really? It’s that awful?” She shrugs and allows the draenei to transport her away.

Taveth turns to wink at Anarchaia as the death knight disappears in a flash of light and a shrill scream.

“Why did you lie to Ali?” Kel’ori asks.

The undead mage gives a sigh of relief and mouths a _thank you_ to the scholar. She chuckles at Kel’ori as though not relieved. “You don’t find it nauseating?” She shrugs and gestures to Romuul, then dissipates into a beam of light before the elf can respond.

Kel’ori pauses. “Um, no?” she says to no one as Koltira and then Taveth disappear.

Grimory gives a glance around when he reappears. “Wow. Scenic.” He sets a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder and gives a nervous smile. “Gonna live?” he laughs.

Alisbeth grins painfully at Grimory. “Ever felt like you’re going to puke out your innards?”

Once the blood elf mage appears beside the others, Koltira straightens and shakes off his discomfort. “Okay, I got a look at the map just before coming through. Illidan is a good walk north from here. I’d say it’s a day—” He observes the demons littering the area as far north as he can see. “It might be two days, stopping to fight almost constantly.”

Grimory purses his lips. “Only when I actually _have_,” he responds to Alisbeth before nodding to both Koltira and Taveth. “Sounds like a plan. When night falls, the dead can keep watch while the rest…rest.”

Taveth follows the death knight’s gaze. “Dogs. They’re small and Grim—and you two—” he motions as an afterthought at the death knights, “can pull them all tight for the ladies to use any area of effect abilities they have.”

Anarchaia nods as well. “How will we know it’s night, exactly?” She looks up at the cloudless sky and endless stars beyond the imposing body of Azeroth.

Kel’ori looks up. “When were tired, I suppose?”

Taveth pulls out a bronze fob watch and clicks it open. “It’s nearly nine in the morning. We’ve plenty of ‘daytime’ left.”

Grimory nods and turns to head up the path as though he doesn’t care who follows.

Koltira smirks at the device, then eyes Anarchaia. “I’m really surprised you don’t have one of those. And check it constantly to make sure we’re on schedule. And nag us about keeping a move on.” He grabs her in a playful hug.

Anarchaia purses her lips as her face gets squished into his cuirass. “Perhaps I just don’t care about the time when I’m with you.” She reaches up to poke him in the cheek and wiggles free from his grasp to follow the Illidari. “Though we really should keep a move on…”

Alisbeth runs after Grimory and leaps onto his back. “Wait…you…_puked out your innards?!_ How? Why? Did it hurt? Was it cool?”

The other three fall into step, Koltira taking the undead mage by the hand and the Nightheart siblings just behind.

The day wears on slowly, the travelers growing hot from the lava and dirty from the soot, dirt, and viscera. Nearly every several yards is a demon of some twisted sort, which runs forward, eager to fight. By the time noon rolls around, Kel’ori is exhausted, though not having done much of the fighting herself. She drops to a small outcropping and wipes her forehead, leaving a grey smear across her moist skin.

“I have to sit. Please. I need water. And food. And to rest.” She conjures a glass of water and drinks gluttonously.

Taveth thinks on it for a moment, then sits with her. “I didn’t want to say anything.”

Grimory gives a curt nod as he leans up against the cliffside. He pulls a ration of dried meat from his pack and chews on it idly, skin also glittering with sweat and demon blood. “A shame there’s no water on this gods-forsaken rock.”

Anarchaia lifts a hand and a table appears, its cloth billowing as it hovers with arcane energies. The surface is lined with cups and pitchers of clean water as well as a few plates of sweets. “No need to thank me,” she says with a playful grin and a wave of a hand.

Taveth bats Kel’ori’s had away from the sweets. “Don’t. They’ll make you more thirsty.”

Kel’ori narrows her eyes at him and reaches again. He slaps her hand away again. The mage hops from the green-black jagged edge, grabs up several sweets, and blinks away to another outcropping. She sits down and overacts eating each one as Taveth purses his lips at her.

Alisbeth grumbles. “Can you just dump cold water on me? This is awful. I’m going to melt.”

“Sure.” A large orb of water manifests above Alisbeth’s head and promptly drops.

Alisbeth sighs in relief. “That’s better. Thanks.”

Grimory chuckles and grabs a cup of cold water and a strudel from the table. He sticks it between his fangs and sits where Kel’ori had been. “Guess we’ll be bathing in lava, too.”

Kel’ori sneers. “I’ll conjure my own shower, thanks.”

Taveth chuckles. “I’m pretty sure they have accommodations on the Vindicaar.”

Anarchaia sits cross-legged in the ash and dirt. “I can always grab some tents. Though in this heat I doubt you’d sleep very well…”

“I could sleep through the end of the world,” Grimory grunts and downs his water. “A little sweat is gross, but I’ve had worse.”

Taveth’s ears twitch at the sound of a fiend chattering in the distance. He shudders. “We should probably get moving again.”

Alisbeth makes a face and shoulders her axe.

Koltira holds out his hand to the mage on the ground. “All good?”

The table disappears in a flurry of sparkles. Anarchaia takes the death knight’s hand, using it to stand again, and smiles behind her mask. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Grimory furrows his brow as the cup in his hand disappears as well, and stands. “Mage stuff,” he grumbles and holds an arm out for Alisbeth. Before he can take a step down the path, however, the ground rumbles. Taveth immediately whips out his journal to sketch the demon and its entourage.

A demon the size of a small building rounds the corner of the cliffside with a massive sword over an armored shoulder and a smattering of imps in tow.

Kel’ori jumps up in a slight panic and blinks forward, running into Koltira, who doesn’t waver. The death knight rights her with a smirk.

“Careful where you’re going. Don’t want to get impaled.” He nods to Grimory, signaling he is ready to follow the demon hunter into the fight.

Grimory nods and his arms bulge as they morph into smoky black claws. He runs forward, scraping a nail along the dirt. Golden light flows from the scratch to beneath the imps. Chains burst from the sigil and pull all the lesser demons to its center.

The larger demon swings its huge sword in a low arc, narrowly missing the demon hunter as the elf leaps over the blade.

Anarchaia steps forward and lifts a hand. A vortex swirls above; from it rains thick shards of ice and sleet. The imps shudder at the chill and others cry out as they’re buffeted.

Alisbeth leaps in, Maw swinging wildly.

Taveth looks over at his sister, nervously picking at her perfect manicure. “Well?”

“I’ll get hurt! Do you see the size of that thing? What if it turns its sword on me? I’ll crumple like paper!”

“Grim has its attention,” Anarchaia says with slight irritation and dodges a ball of fire from an angry imp. She doesn’t anticipate the second, however, and hisses as it flies so close to her face that her hood gets blown back.

The Illidari sidesteps another swing from the demon’s sword and blows fire over his back. The demon growls and decides Alisbeth is a weaker target. He ignores the heat at his thick hide and brings his sword down on her as she nears.

Alisbeth hops out of the way and growls. “You’re not supposed to be looking at _me!_”

Kel’ori tries to stop, but is already blinking as the demon turns on Alisbeth. She pops to the middle of the group with her hands over her head as a violet sphere radiates in quick pulses from her. The imps all shriek and burst with little sparks, then fall down, dead. Kel’ori opens one eye at the sound, then stares around, dumbfounded. “Woah.”

Koltira grabs the mage and drags her out of the near proximity of the huge demon. “Nice job. Get back.”

Anarchaia smiles at the other mage. “Well done.” She hurls a large fireball toward the monster, but he lifts his sword to shield himself.

Grimory growls. “I’m _trying_.” He rakes his claws over an exposed spot in the demon’s armor and is splashed with blood.

The demon releases a bestial cry and turns to swing at the demon hunter again.

Grimory, not expecting such a quick turn in attention, yelps and backpedals as the blade bites into his chest and arm. He momentarily ignores the pain to dodge another swing.

Kel’ori blushes. “Um, thanks.” With sudden confidence, she turns and sends several arcane blasts and a series of crystalline missiles at the demon.

Alisbeth leaps at the demon hunter. “Grim! No!” She places herself between him and the demon, bringing her axe down in front of her. Crimson splatters forward and a red mist swirls to those nearest the death knight.

The demon slashes at Alisbeth with reinvigorated hatred, but Grimory rushes forward to stop the sword with a hardened claw. Thorns sprout from his shoulders as his muscles struggle to hold the weapon in place. “His…head…” He growls and breathes fire into the demon’s face. Red swirls from the burns into his own wounds, stopping the bleeding and sealing the gashes.

The demon growls as his back is assaulted with arcane and ice magic and his front is washed with flames. Alisbeth scrambles up and plants her feet. She swings her axe with all her strength at the demon’s neck. The demon looks back at the death knight and reaches a hand up to grab her while still struggling with the demon hunter. Before he can grab her, however, the axe buries deep in his throat. He thrashes, throwing Alisbeth off his back. Unfortunately, the axe goes with her and arterial spray douses those nearest him.

Grimory holds fast to the blade even when the demon falls to the dirt in a rapidly growing pool of blood. He throws it aside. “Right. Good job.”

Anarchaia wipes a single rogue drop of blood from her chest and sneers. “Gross.”

Koltira shakes the blood from one hand, though he’s completely covered in it. “That wasn’t too bad, I suppose? Though, if there are many more like it, that could prove…aggravating.”

Grimory nods to Koltira. “I’m sure there’s worse lurking about as well. We need to keep on our toes.”

Alisbeth shoulders her axe and skips to her cousin. She throws her arm over the mage’s shoulders and smiles. “You did good! I didn’t think you could do anything near that cool.”

Kel’ori shudders, then screams as the bloody arm squishes and rubs against the expensive fabric of her robes. She lurches away from Alisbeth and gasps at the blood in her hair and on her sleeves. “You absolute _heathen!_”

Anarchaia titters at the other two women. “Pull the blood from the fabric, then burn it into vapor. You can do that, can’t you?”

Kel’ori wrinkles her nose. “There’s no need to be condescending. Of _course_ I know how to do it. Doesn’t make this okay! _Don’t touch me!_” she screams as Alisbeth runs for her again, arms stretched wide for a hug.

Taveth gives a small smirk as he sidles up to Anarchaia. “Remember how I was about my journals of research? That’s how Kel is about clothing. She can fix any damage and do pretty much all of the sewing…but it’s the idea of the matter. She doesn’t _want_ to have to.” He laughs as his sister blinks past him with a shriek and Alisbeth comes barreling by his arm.

“I wasn’t being condescending,” the undead mage mutters before smiling to Taveth. “I get it. Heh.”

Koltira also laughs at the two women. He stops as he hears a chattering on the outcropping overhead. “Ali, stop!” He shifts his eyes up in time to see two fiends leap from the ledge. Thinking quickly, he reaches out and drags Kel’ori into his arms with a purple tendril, seconds before the demon would have landed on her, but leaving Alisbeth to fend for herself.

Anarchaia grits her teeth and lifts a hand to throw a protective barrier of arcane energy around the death knight woman. The felhound claws all the way down as it slides off the barrier, then yelps as Grimory brings a swift boot to its side.

Alisbeth giggles as the demon flops to the ground. She jumps from the barrier and cuts the head clean off. “I was almost mad at you for that, Angerblarg, but it was really funny to watch.”

Kel’ori whines and shoves away from Koltira. “Why do you people keep touching me with that!” She stomps away, her body becoming encased in violet energy as the blood separates from her robes, hair, and skin. She collects it into a ball and throws it into a pool of lava, where it hisses and causes blobs of the green to hop around, until finally settling again.

Koltira frowns. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He shakes his head and turns to continue up the path.

Alisbeth takes the head from the other fiend and holds it up at her cousin, smiling. “Want a trophy?”

Anarchaia gives Koltira a comforting pat on the arm. “I’m sure she’s grateful.” She turns to grab the head from Alisbeth using magic. “Let’s not traumatize her further, Ali. Heh.” She tosses it into the lava.

Grimory gestures for the rest to follow. “C’mon. We need to keep moving.”

The others fall into step with the two men leading the way.


	14. Chapter 14

The day again wears on—or so appears to—and the weight of travel rests heavy upon the living among the group. Grimory attempts to replenish his waning energy with rations of meat and bread, but the small portions do little. He groans as his feet throb within his boots. “All right, I need a break,” he admits, hair having long since sagged in the humid heat and action of numerous battles along the way.

Anarchaia nods. “Even I didn’t miss all this walking, if I’m being honest.”

Kel’ori moves to the side of the path and drops down into the warm dirt. “Oh, thank gods. I’ve never walked so much in my life. How do you do it? Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have brought my carpet. _Why_ do you people _walk_ everywhere, anyway?” She conjures a blob of water and drops it on herself, ignoring for a moment, her usual groomed state.

Taveth chuckles and sits a ways away, opening his journal to update his notes. “I find that the walking is useful for my notes. I’m closer to a curiosity on the ground, should I have a desire to inspect it. I can stop if I need more time sketching a landmark.”

Alisbeth drops into the mud to grab a wad of it and lob it at Anarchaia. “I don’t like the walking, but it doesn’t make me tired. But this place is hot and it hurts my skin.”

“We’d be easily spotted in the air,” Grimory grumbles and pulls off his boots to rub his thumbs into the sore arches of his feet. “As for back home, we had to walk everywhere because _someone_ can’t be within ten yards of a large animal.”

Anarchaia scoffs and opens her mouth to retort, but is pelted in the face with a glob of mud. She lifts her mask some to spit out the wet soot. With a glowing hand, she pulls the substance from the fabric of her hood and robes and hurls it back at the death knight. “I feel attacked. If not literally.”

Alisbeth dives out of the way of the mud. It lands on Kel’ori’s stomach and splatters against her breasts. She closes her eyes and sighs in exasperation. “At least it’s not blood. Right?” she says through grit teeth, convincing herself to keep her cool.

Grimory snerks at the literal mud slinging.

Koltira drops to the ground, wrapping his hands around Anarchaia’s narrow waist and dragging her with him to sit on his lap. “To be fair, though, it has given us a lot of time to get to know one another.”

Anarchaia gives a small noise of surprise, then ’smiles and leans her head on his shoulder. “That’s true…so much probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”

The other mage cocks an eyebrow at him. “How did you all meet, anyway?”

The demon hunter looks over at Kel’ori while sliding his boots back on. “Ana and I had orders to go to Stormheim and help Odyn, but we required more help, so we posted an ad. Guess who showed up.”

Koltira smirks on the memory of their first meeting. “I’d promised Ali an adventure to get her out of her room. I’m not sure she’d ever been so happy in her un-life.”

Kel’ori purses her lips between all of them. “So, Ana used to date Grim and Koltira knew Ali from…whatever it’s called. The scourge thing.”

Alisbeth purses her lips at her cousin. “I was never part of the scourge. That’s awful. I hunted them, looking for the one who killed Koltira so I could avenge him.” She seethes for a moment, then smiles. “And now Thass is our bestest friend!”

The mage uses magic to clean her robe and deposit the blob on Alisbeth’s head. “But you were with Grim… This is confusing.”

“We weren’t dating,” the undead girl and Illidari say in unison.

Grimory pulls his ears back and a hint of color tints his cheeks. “Ali and Kolt were a thing when we’d all met. But Ali and I knew one another a long time ago…”

Anarchaia, however, remains silent and picks at the seam in her glove.

“We were married!” Alisbeth chirps, flinging mud everywhere. “But Grim is nicer.”

Koltira’s ears pull back. “I’m right here.”

Alisbeth sticks out her tongue. “You’re a pushy bossy-pants.”

Anarchaia purses her lips. “He’s pushy because he _cares_. How often do you think you’d have been in trouble if he hadn’t forced you out of a tough situation?”

Grimory rolls his eyes and removes the pack at his hip to use as a makeshift pillow, then lies in the dirt.

Kel’ori wrinkles one nostril in thought as she looks between the two men. _Why’s she get all the hot guys?_

Alisbeth stares pointedly at the mage in Koltira’s lap. “So, you’re saying I should have stayed with him so he could keep me in line while fucking you in secret.” She stands, combing mud from her hair. “Sometimes I wish I’d killed both of you. Not just tried to kill him.” She turns away and trudges around a corner, out of sight.

Kel’ori stares wide-eyed at the atmosphere. “What the hell did I just start?”

Grimory laces his fingers behind his head and closes his eyes. “Don’t worry too much about it,” he grumbles, too tired to care about the drama.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes in Alisbeth’s wake and swallows her ire. “No,” she mumbles when she’s too far to hear. “I’m saying he’d have stayed if you’d appreciated it.”

Koltira clenches his jaw. He lifts the mage gently and deposits her on the ground, then stands and goes the opposite direction from the other death knight and seats himself where he can keep lookout away from the others.

’Anarchaia blinks’, then watches curiously as he walks away. A frown pulls at her lips and she brings up her knees to set her chin on them.

Grimory can’t resist a chuckle. “I honestly can’t believe this is still an issue. How old are the lot of you again? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

Anarchaia scowls over at him through her mask. “Not helpful.”

“Not trying to be.” The demon hunter turns away to show her his back. “Wake me when there’s more important things at hand.”

Kel’ori summons a small bedroll and lays down. She looks to her brother. “Kick me if I start to ask questions again.”

Taveth nods and sets his own pack beneath his head.

~ * ~

Hours later, under the same dark atmosphere, the three living sleep as deeply as they can in the heat of the area. Alisbeth skips around the corner, helm missing and a smile on her lips. She stops when she sees Anarchaia sitting alone. Her smile grows wider as she approaches. “Agamemnon! I didn’t think anyone was awake but Koltira. C’mere. I wanna show you something.”

Anarchaia’s eyes narrow some, but she stands all the same. She steps over Grimory’s sleeping figure. “What is it?” she says tiredly.

“It’s…hard to explain. You have to see it.” Alisbeth beckons the mage to follow, smiling eagerly at each step the other woman takes.

Her nerves screaming suspicion, Anarchaia reservedly follows.

Once both are around the corner, Alisbeth stands on the edge of a lake of fel lava and points across the distance. “Do you see it? Way over there.”

The mage stands beside her and squints into the distance. “I-I don’t…?”

Alisbeth grabs the back of the mage’s neck and forces her to her knees, holding Anarchaia’s face right over the glowing green heat. “Do you see it now? Hmm? Do you _see_ it? Huh? Or do you need a closer look?” She pushes just the smallest bit.

Before the heat can burn at her mask, Anarchaia blinks from Alisbeth’s grasp to atop a large boulder several yards away. “Look,” she says, her tone betraying her racing heart and quivering fingers. “Clearly there’s bad blood still about this and, while an _adult_ would have handled it at the time of its happening, I’m still willing to settle this–”

Alisbeth runs after the mage to yank her foot out from under her and drag her back to the ground. “I have no idea what bad blood you’re talking about.” She clambers over the top of the mage to pin her down. “Speaking of blood, if I slit your throat, what color would come out?” She unsheathes her axe and holds it to the mage’s neck, while her other palm presses down on Anarchaia’s windpipe.

Anarchaia cringes as her head hits the rock and eventually the ground. Her eyes then widen on the axe. She makes to respond, but is unable to through being choked and brings a hand up to wrap around Alisbeth’s wrist instead.

“I want to be wrong, Akama. I really do.” She pushes her axe a little closer, ignoring the mage’s resistance on her wrist. “Am I wrong? Do you bleed the same as me?”

Too wracked with fear to concentrate on escape, Anarchaia clenches her eyes shut and nods. “Yes,” she rasps quietly over the bubbling of lava.

Suddenly, Alisbeth flies backward off the mage, her face locked in an expression of shock. Anarchaia’s eyes widen again. She scrambles back, a hand over her neck and breathing heavily.

Alisbeth lands in front of Koltira, who glares down at her. He wrenches the Maw from her grasp and steps back to hit her across the side of the head. She spins from the impact and falls to the ground. He drops the axe on her and she flinches.

“Don’t you lay a fucking hand on Ana. Got it?”

Alisbeth nods quickly, a palm over her cheek where the fangs of the skull tore open the flesh.

Koltira goes to the mage and purses his lips, holding out a hand. “Let’s get back to camp.”

She swallows and takes his hand when it’s offered. “Y-…yeah.”

Alisbeth slinks away, back to where she’d been hiding.

Once away from the other death knight, Koltira sighs and purses his lips. “Ana, I _chose_ you. And if you think I’m only with you because I’m not with her, then…” He stops and looks across the landscape as he thinks. “If you don’t really love me, then just tell me. Don’t throw me into hypothetical reconciliations with a woman who tried to kill me.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow upward, eyes still widened up at him. “Wh-what? _Reconciliation?_ Koltira, that’s not what I was trying to do! She said something rude and I was _defending_ you!” She scowls beneath her mask. “You don’t think I’d actually _prefer_ if the two of you never talked again? Just looking at her fills me with rage over what she did to you and it’s all I can do to be civil every time she speaks to me.” She turns her scowl on him. “I _love you_. And anything I do now is because of that.”

“Then why—” Koltira looks over his shoulder and lowers his voice as one of the sleeping elves stirs “—why make the comment that I would still be with her? You think her being out of line is why I left? Like it had nothing to do with her being a completely different person, and I didn’t love her anymore? I don’t need you putting those ideas in her head.” He heads toward his watch perch but stops. “For the record, as valiant as it was, I don’t need to be defended over being called a…‘bossy-pants’.” He does his best to keep a straight face repeating the insult.

She follows, also lowering her voice. “I know you don’t, but if you don’t like being defended then you’ve chosen the wrong partner.” She pushes her hood back. “And it wasn’t to put _ideas in her head_, I just…” She sighs and stops to let him go on. “I’ll go keep watch at camp…”

Koltira growls and spins on her. “Ana, you—” He grabs her, lifting her mask to press a firm kiss on her lips. “You’re infuriating sometimes. And I love you. But gods, please, don’t go poking that bear.” He hesitates. “She’s been acting suspiciously and I’m afraid all this Light has her putting together some pieces I’d rather she not have picked up.”

She makes a sound of surprise against his lips, then blinks as he speaks before finally sobering. “I’ve noticed,” she whispers, frowning. A sigh shudders through her chest. “I hesitated, but I shouldn’t have.” Her lips again purse into a scowl. “But given the opportunity, I don’t think it’d be much of a fight. Trust me, if it weren’t for you, and Grim, and Taveth, and that _fffffucking child_…” Her fists clench against his shoulders.

Koltira sets a thumb to the mage’s lips. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re better than that. And I love you for it, so don’t even tempt those ideas.” He scowls over the land, then stares at his feet. “It was foolish to think we could all travel together like before. Maybe we should leave.”

Anarchaia’s face softens from her scowl and she lifts a hand to grasp at his. “Like a vacation?” She smiles. “You wouldn’t get in trouble for abandoning an assignment?”

He cringes. “I’d be in huge trouble, so, it’d be less ‘vacation’ and more ‘permanently in hiding for going AWOL.’”

She chuckles and squeezes his hand. “Then I say we grin and bear it for a bit. At least until we’ve done all we can.” She crooks her lips in sudden thought. “I still have to ask Taveth about those books, anyway…”

“I’m not nearly as uncomfortable with her traveling with us as you think. But you… Just bite your tongue. Okay?” He takes her hand and hesitates on his way to the lookout spot.

Anarchaia nods, feeling like a scolded child. “I’ve been amicable so far I’d think…” She notes the slight falter in his step. “Is everything okay?”

“Maybe I’m afraid of letting you out of my sight again,” he says. “But…we do need someone in camp to keep watch.” He smirks slyly. “Shame, really. I found the most vaguely private spot…”

The mage furrows her brow and purses her lips. “Are you _trying_ to torture me? What did I do to deserve this?”

He laughs and hold up his hands in innocence. “I was just commenting on how you’d be hard pressed to see anyone in this hiding spot. I mean, anything could be happening back there! A game of darts, perhaps. A round of poker. Anything.” He winks and turns up the path. “But it really would be completely irresponsible to leave these three unattended.” He smirks over his shoulder at her. “Good night, Ana.”

Anarchaia folds her arms and drums her fingers on them as she huffs and looks between the camp behind her and Koltira’s back. With a noise of frustration, she turns for the camp. “The second we’re alone again, you’re gonna get it…” she hisses beneath her breath and again takes up her spot near the sleeping elves.


	15. Chapter 15

Kel’ori is the first to sit up, grumbling as she conjures a coffee for herself. She silently pouts over the fact that it isn’t a Booty Bay coffee, but drinks it anyway, conjuring a frosting-covered manabun in her other hand.

Taveth opens one eye at the mage’s delicate sips. “Didn’t you hear anything I said about the sugar? And now _coffee?_”

Kel’ori takes a huge bite of the pastry, positioning herself dramatically so he can watch her bite and chew. “Oh, I heard you. I just choose to think you’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.”

She shrugs and turns her back to him.

Grimory sits up soon after, hair molded in the shape of his pack where he’d been sleeping on it. He runs his hand over the spot and sneers. “Gods fuckin’… Either mage? Some water? In a—” A glob of conjured water hits him in the face and he scowls. “…basin. Preferably.” He gets to work styling it.

The book in Anarchaia’s hands disappears in a puff of violet smoke and she stretches. “Night was relatively quiet.” An image of the green lava only inches from her face flashes through her mind. “…relatively.”

“May I have a glass of water?” Taveth asks Anarchaia. “Where’s Ali? And Koltira?”

The undead girl nods and conjures a chilled glass of water to hand to Taveth.

Kel’ori purses her lips. “Is today going to be _super_awkward?”

She shakes her head. “We dealt with it while you slept. They took perimeter lookout while I watched over you guys.”

Grimory snorts. “Dealt with, hm? With words?”

Anarchaia purses her lips. “Yes.”

“Ali!” Taveth calls. He sips his water, his ears perking as her footsteps round the corner.

“Oh! Everyone’s awake! Time to get going.” She leans to kiss the demon hunter’s forehead, then sets the pad of her finger on his nose. “_Boop._” she whispers, smiling.

Kel’ori grumbles all the way to her feet and sends her bedroll away. “My feet already hurt. I’ve got a blister forming, I know it.” She conjures a mirror and uses magic to fix her hair and makeup, slicking glittery gloss over her rouge lipstick.

“You can get that healed back on the Vindicar, then,” Anarchaia says with a smile and stands. “I’ll get Kolt and we’ll get going.” She turns to wander down the path to his lookout spot.

Grimory smiles at the death knight, then immediately frowns. “What happened to your face? Were you attacked?”

Alisbeth touches the crusted blood over the gashes on her face and runs her fingertips long the streaks left from her unable to wash it. She smiles nervously and forces an unconvincing laugh. “It’s nothing. I just hurt myself.”

Taveth stands and scrutinizes the injury through his spectacles. “It looks like a scratch from several claws? Close together.”

She bats him away. “Yes. I hurt myself on claws. Close together ones. Let’s go! So much adventure ahead of us!”

Kel’ori rolls her eyes at the others.

Grimory scowls and stands to tentatively buckle his pack at his hip. “That’s the story you’re going with, yeah?”

Anarchaia returns to the camp shortly after with Koltira at her side, only to slow in her steps when she sees the two men inspecting Alisbeth’s face.

Alisbeth glances up at Koltira’s stern expression. “Y-yes. I hurt myself on claws. Tightly clawing…” She smiles reassuringly up at him and takes his hand. “Ready for _walking?_”

Taveth gives the demon hunter a look of disbelief from behind Alisbeth’s back and shakes his head. He turns away to check the contents of his pack, making sure that somehow nothing crawled away.

Koltira clears his throat. “It’s clear for a good way north. I suggest we get moving before anything moves into the path.”

Grimory’s eyes flick to the glaring face of the Maw of the Damned across Alisbeth’s shoulders as the woman pulls him down the path, taking note of the blood on the small teeth. His scowl deepens but he remains silent and stares ahead.

Anarchaia fidgets beside Koltira, feeling the tension through the space between herself and the couple at the head of the party.

Koltira takes Anarchaia by the hand, stopping her fingers from twisting around one another. He leans in close. “What’s got you so knotted up?”

“He’s going to find out that you attacked her,” Anarchaia mumbles just loud enough for him to hear. “He’ll be angry…”

He stares down at the mage, undisturbed by her words. “She attacked you. _I_was angry.”

Anarchaia frowns and avoids his gaze. “I don’t like when you guys fight. It’s scary, to be honest.” The night before plays in her mind again. “I don’t know why I froze the way I did…if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had to…”

Koltira sets his cool gaze on her. “And then you’d be in his sights if you’d left a mark. Honestly, he can just fuck off. I wouldn’t take it back, Ana.”

Anarchaia gives a quiet sigh. “He wouldn’t attack me like he would you, but…” She shrugs. “Whatever. What’s done is done.”

Koltira’s eyelids lower. “Oh, we’re at ‘whatever.’” He sighs and rubs his palms down his face. “Can we please, for the love of the gods, stop with what is turning into petty arguments? Can we go back to you drunkenly proclaiming that I’m perfect and we always agree?”

Anarchaia flushes and furrows her brow and wraps her arms about herself as she looks ahead. “Y-yeah. Sorry.”

Koltira grabs the mage under one arm as they walk and leans down to kiss the top of her head.

Kel’ori sends her things away and falls into step beside her brother. “So, they said we’d get to Illidan today, right? And then what?”

Taveth shrugs. “I’m guessing we do whatever he tells us to?”

Grimory looks over his shoulder at the siblings. “Right. I’m sure he’ll have plenty for us to do. I know up north needs a boost in defense. That’s why he sent for us, I’m sure.”

Kel’ori nods absently. “Okay. How close are we, do you think?”

“Not far,” the Illidari responds and turns back ahead. “Probably a few hours. And if Kolt isn’t lying, we should be relatively undisturbed.”

Kel’ori blinks ahead to walk beside Alisbeth. A clean, wet cloth pops into her hand. “To clean up some of the blood.”

Alisbeth grins and takes it. “Oh! Thanks, Kel. Not so useless after all.”

Kel’ori stops in her tracks and purses her lips. She clenches her fists, then just decides to let it go.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a sideways glance and pulls on her hand gently. “Be nice, yeah?”

Alisbeth stares at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I was being nice! I thought that was a very nice comment. I’d like for someone to tell me I’m not useless, otherwise how would I know?” She scrubs at her face, missing some crusted blood while smearing a lot of it around.

Grimory chuckles at her. “Here.” He takes the rag from her and gets to work doing a better job of cleaning her cheek. He lowers his voice. “You sure that’s what happened?”

She cocks an eyebrow as he cleans up her face. “Why do you keep asking? It’s just a scratch! I’m fine.” She puffs out her cheek so he can clean better.

“Because I don’t believe you,” the demon hunter says pointedly and rubs this thumb along the edge of the deepest gouge. “But fine. I won’t press it.”

Kel’ori whines quietly. “How much f—”

“Don’t,” Taveth warns.

The mage pouts.

Grimory leans back to hand the rag back to Kel’ori. “Thank you.”

Anarchaia groans at the almost question. “That vacation can’t come soon enough.”

Kel’ori cringes at the blood-soaked cloth and lifts it with her magic. She gives a small giggle before dumping it into a nearby lava pool.

Alisbeth hooks her arm through Grimory’s and goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “It’s just a scratch. A mean one. That kind of hurt. But I deserved.” She pauses, her eyes narrowed. “Claws. It was claws.”

Koltira laughs. “What? I thought you missed the incessant questions of how much farther and are we almost there and how much longer.” He wiggles her side to side in his grasp as he laughs. A land formation catches his eye. “That was on the map. We’re nearly there. However…” He points up the hill they’re headed for, where an infernal stomps idly around and two fel hunters snap at each other over bones they’ve already picked clean.

Grimory sighs at the girl beside him and eyes the infernal as well. “Whatever you say, Ali.” His arms mutate as they near the crest of the hill.

Anarchaia looks uninterestedly at the demons on the hill. “I’m just saying if I have to hear those words in any succession of one another ever again I may just impale myself.”

The brimstone demon notices the party and slowly turns to lumber toward them, the felhounds perking and running forward as well.

Koltira chuckles for a moment as he withdraws Byfrost. “Any ideas what you might want to impale yourself on? I could help. I’m kind of an expert.”

Kel’ori charges a barrage in her palms, then sets two glowing spheres undulating toward the dogs. The balls hit them and the demons’ running slows to a near walk.

“Oh, nice,” Taveth says. “When did you learn that one?”

“That’s, like, level one. I could teach you sometime.”

Taveth forces a smile. “Eh-heh. Um, no. No thank you.”

Anarchaia blushes and chortles as she lights one of the slowed hounds on fire. It runs in circles yelping in agony. “Oh,” she chuckles. “Perhaps I don’t mind hearing it _that badly_.”

Grimory sets a sigil of flames beneath the infernal but it merely stomps through it, unfazed. He grits his fangs and dodges a kick from its monstrous foot, then hacks a chunk of its leg off with a claw. “The head is its weakness,” he calls and spreads his wings to fly up and serve as a distraction.

As the infernal ambles closer, Kel’ori helps with the other fel stalker, doing her best to help keep both slow.

Koltira laughs. “That’s not what I meant, but I like the way you think.” He winks at her and runs forward, Byfrost slashing as he reaches the infernal.

Grimory’s eyelids lower as he watches his comrades attack anywhere other than the head as he’d commanded. He dodges a swinging hand and billows fire onto the demon’s face. The infernal groans and covers the area with a humongous hand.

Anarchaia bites her lip as she grins and throws a blast of icy air over the advancing felhounds, effectively freezing them solid.

Taveth prods his sister in the side. “You wanna help Grim out?”

The mage shoots a few arcane missiles up at the demon’s chest.

Alisbeth snaps out of her small trance watching Grimory fight as a huge stone foot comes down to crush her. “Oh! Uh. Fighting.” She throws a few coiling red strands at the demon’s head, then pulls life from it by a long red flow of blood, dripping but never landing on the ground.

Grimory scoffs quietly to himself as he watches the missiles crash against the infernal’s stony torso, then grunts as it swats him from the air and into the dirt. He groans in pain but quickly stands.

Then infernal growls as its head is barraged with fireballs and blood magic. It stomps forward blindly, crushing the frozen hounds underfoot, then lifts a hand. Energy swirls around it before pulsing outward in ripples of felfire.

Anarchaia throws an arcane barrier over herself and braces as the pulses wash over it.

Koltira lifts a barrier of his own, domed over himself in shimmering purple. Alisbeth screams as the flames wash over her. He pulls her inside with a purple tendril. Once there she panics and spins to hit him with her axe.

“Relax, I’m trying to help!” He throws a mind freeze at the infernal and the flames stop.

Alisbeth purses her lips at him, then runs away as the fire clears.

“Everyone else is aiming at the head, Kel,” Taveth says casually.

The mage mocks her brother shortly, then aims for the head, exploding a fully charged barrage at it.

Grimory encases himself in a rippling orb of black and green, reducing the damage done by the flames. When they cease, he flies back up. He inhales, preparing another blast of felfire from his lungs, but before he can exhale, the demon’s head is blasted with numerous arcane missiles. Each does more damage than the, last until its weakened head shatters. Its arms fall to its sides and it crashes forward, causing Anarchaia to scramble out of its path.

The demon hunter swallows the rising fire in his throat and lands gently back on the soil. He smiles at Kel’ori and smoke billows from his mouth and nose as he speaks. “Well done. Everyone.”

Kel’ori flushes and bites her lip as Grimory’s gaze meets hers. She glances at Taveth, who is giving her a bored look. “What? I could still have a shot!”

He shakes his head. “No, no you couldn’t.”

She pouts and stomps after him as he goes to the others.

Alisbeth leans into Grimory’s face and blows on the smoke before it dissipates. “You did the best.”

Grimory chuckles and gives Alisbeth an endearing smile. “I didn’t, but _you’re_the best for saying so.” He turns to continue up the path.

“We should go,” Koltira says, motioning toward a downhill slope where felhounds fight over scraps and one chases a small imp, which shrieks as it runs for its life.

They come to a fork in the road with bridges leading toward a couple large buildings and a cave. Below the nearest bridge, however, what looks to be a cave entrance catches Grimory’s eye. “Down here,” he says and waves for them to follow.

The group rushes forward to avoid more demons coming into the area. When they enter the narrow mouth, Alisbeth gapes at the green cages dangling overhead. She sees Illidan and stops, then stomps past into the camp to prod at a fel hunter imprisoned in a swirling vortex. Kel’ori also keeps her distance, practically hiding herself behind Taveth as though his narrow frame will make a difference.

Illidan pays the smaller death knight no mind. “Ah, you’ve returned. I’d almost thought you’d all given up.” He scrutinizes Grimory and narrows his glowing eyes behind his blindfold. “Or at last seen to reason.”

The demon hunter folds his arms casually. “What is it you’d have us do?” he says, ignoring the slight.

Illidan scoffs but does not press. “The Legion has taken many slaves and prisoners in this area. They’d be a great asset should they feel they owe us, understand?”

Grimory nods. “Yessir.”

“Good. I’d suggest the six of you split up. Perhaps the men can carve a path through the blockade on the path while the rest see to the cave networks.” He regards the women. “You’re more than capable, I’m sure.”

Anarchaia purses her lips and sets her weight on a hip. “We are.”

Kel’ori nods absently, though apprehensive. “Mages in the caves. Good idea. We can light our own way.”

Taveth goes to stand with Koltira and makes immediate note of the order into his journal. “I don’t like this. We’re stronger together.”

Koltira ruffles the man’s blond hair and gives a reassuring laugh. “Don’t worry, Grim and I’ll keep you safe.”

Anarchaia gives Koltira a longing look then sighs. “I can’t deny that he’s right, though. If we’re only releasing prisoners, we should cover more ground to get as many as possible.”

Koltira gives the mage’s hand a loving squeeze. “Should be fast, right?”

Alisbeth turns to purse her lips at Grimory when she hears the orders. She stomps past Illidan again, setting her angry glare on him the whole way. “It’ll get done so fast your head will spin.”

Grimory turns at an angle where Illidan cannot see his face and gives Alisbeth a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure we will.” He follows her from the alcove.

Alisbeth looks Illidan right in the eye as she goes to Grimory, grabs him by both horns, and pulls him into a passionate kiss. “See you on the other side.”

Grimory’s face immediately turns a shade of magenta and he swallows, eyes wide, as he nods. “Y-yeah.”

Illidan sneers when Alisbeth leaves and rips a bat from the air as it tries to fly above them and into the cave. “It’s no mystery why you’re unable to harness the demon within you,” he grumbles and rips off its head. “You can barely keep a woman in control.”

Grimory turns away. “Yessir,” he mutters and follows the party outside.

Anarchaia sets her hands on her hips and gestures to the caves to the north. “I suppose the girls and I will start there. You guys can make your way up the paths.”

~ * ~

Koltira motions for the men to follow him the other direction. “Let’s make this as short and painless as possible.”

Grimory nods and follows. “Agreed.” He blows fire over an advancing pair of eredari as they get to the crest of the platform and, caught off guard, they both run off the ledge and into the pit of feeding felhounds.

Koltira swipes at more eredari, his brow furrowing. “There are more up here than I anticipated.”

The demon hunter slashes through the demonic cannon with his claws and the metal groans as it slides in half and crumbles to the ground. “Tav, free any prisoners you see, yeah? We’ll protect you.”

Taveth scans ahead. “There, behind that…cage demon.”

Koltira laughs. “I’m sure there’s a better name for it.” He runs forward to catch the soultaker’s attention.

The high elf runs past to the cages. “Go, go!” He ushers the broken to run for the enclave where Illidan and the others wait.

Grimory nods to Taveth as he passes. “Good.” While the soultaker is distracted by Koltira, he runs forward to bury his claws into its muscled back. It growls and whirls around. Not able to free his claws, Grimory yelps in surprise as he’s whirled as well.

Koltira stabs the demon in the belly to stop its spinning. “No time for a spin.” He cuts the demon open and spills its innards on the ground.

Grimory lurches forward as the demon falls. He wrenches his claws from its flesh and chuckles. _Good thing Lord Illidan didn’t see that._He gestures up the path where Taveth is already freeing more prisoners as discreetly as possible. “This is pretty efficient, yeah?”

Taveth turns to answer Grimory, but slips to dangle over the small puddle of green lava below the cages. He regains his footing and tries to shake off the panic by smiling at the two on the ground behind him. “Y-yes. Very efficient. Heh.”

Koltira sets up his hand to talk behind it to Grimory. “It’s a wonder he’s still alive.”

Grimory laughs. “_Right?_That’s what I said.” He slices a lesser demon in half as it notices Taveth; its upper torso slides down onto the dirt before it can pursue the warlock.

The high elf gets his feet safely onto solid ground and sighs in relief. “Should we go inside?”

Koltira smirks. “It’d be rude to visit their temple and not say hi.”

Grimory nods. “While I’m not normally one to worry about being rude, I’m inclined to agree.” He grabs Taveth by the arm and gently pushes him ahead of the group. “Stay where we can see you, yeah?”

Taveth stumbles under the Ilidari’s grasp. “I wasn’t going to wander away! Oh, would you look at that.” Taveth veers off toward a strange font at the center of the temple, where green energy swirls upward into another device.

Koltira grabs the high elf by the arm. “You’re wandering.”

“Yes. Quite.” He clears his throat and begins sketching and taking notes of the device.

Grimory rolls his eyes and makes his way to a cage. The mechanism holding the lock is rusty and warm and only takes a quick blow to break. The broken inside praise them in their tongue and run for the exit after receiving directions.

Koltira runs into a small room in a leg of the temple. “Check the supports. There are prisoners inside.”

Grimory nods and makes short work of scouting a neighboring room and freeing the prisoners there as well. He returns to the main chamber and stands guard at the entrance, should they be interrupted.

“We should try upstairs,” Taveth says absently as he catches sight of a cage while drawing the upper chamber.

Koltira nods and finds the stairs. “Tav, either come with me, or stay with Grim.”

“Hmm? Oh! No, I’d very much like to see what’s up there.” He gives Grimory a shy grin, then rushes after the death knight.

Grimory snorts, smirks, and folds his arms as he casts Taveth a sideways glance. “You _sure_you’d rather not stay with _me?_” he mutters as the scholar heads up the staircase.

Taveth’s ears turn a bright red that crawls up the outer edge to the tips. He glances back at the demon hunter and bites into his bottom lip. “Should I stay? With Grim— I mean, down there. Stay out of trouble and all that. Heh.”

Koltira stops and turns to observe the high elf. “What is it about Grim that has everyone wanting to fuck him?”

“That’s n-not—”

“I just don’t get it. What’s he got that I don’t?”

Taveth shrinks and follows the death knight into the chamber. “Um, I, uh… M-maybe it’s— Well—”

“Spit it out,” Koltira says, severing the head from a sorceress.

“W-well, h-he’s attractive and well-groomed—”

“Are you saying I smell?”

Taveth takes a step back, his eyes wide. “No! No! You…smell fine. Heh.

“Oh, thank gods. My sense of smell is failing, so I’m really never sure.” He engages a felguard, casually parrying its blows. “Continue.”

“Uh, um. Well… You…don’t look single.”

“Free those prisoners,” Koltira says, pointing behind two more sorceresses as he pulls them together to kill at once. “What do you mean I _don’t look single_?”

“Heh.” Taveth fidgets after the broken escape. “He just has this…aura?”

Koltira huffs. “I’m not saying I _want_to be flirted with, but it’s kind of a kick in the ego.” He leads the scholar down the stairs.

“I-I’m really n-not good with fl—”

“Don’t flirt with me.” They reach Grimory and Koltira nods. “All clear upstairs.”

Grimory lifts an eyebrow, only having overheard the last bit of their conversation. He opens his mouth to respond, then perks and whirls around at the sound of a distant, echoing scream. He regards the other men. “I’ve…got a bad feeling. I’m gonna go check on the girls, yeah?” He gestures to the cave in the distance and spreads his wings as he steps outside. He leaps into the air and heads over the platform connecting the bridges. His boots make a hushed tap as he lands at the mouth of the cave and peers inside. “Ali?” he calls, not worried about being found. “Ana?”

Taveth and Koltira look at each other. The high elf sighs. “Think it’s okay?”

Koltira scoffs and heads for the back of the temple, where more cages contain several broken. “I’m sure he can handle it, with his good hygiene and rippling muscles and that special something aura of his.”

Taveth purses his lips. “Okay, now you’re just being bitter.”

“Am I?”

Taveth narrows his eyes as Koltira ushers him to more cages while he distracts a soultaker. “Are you jealous of Grim?”

“What’s there to be jealous of?” Koltira grunts, diving out of the way of a thrown cage.

“The attention.”

Koltira shrugs. “Really? That’s it? I mean, I’m fine without it.”

Taveth shrugs. “If you say so.”


	16. Chapter 16

Alisbeth and Kel’ori fall in with Anarchaia. The death knight sighs and stares up at the cave set into the cliff. “So, am I the only one that feels singled out?” she hisses.

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows. “Singled out? Why do you feel that way?” She glances up at the cliffside as well and motions for three girls to take her hands.

Alisbeth ducks her head. “Nothing.” She takes Anarchaia’s hand.

Kel’ori shrugs. “Something’s up his ass, that’s for sure.” She takes Anarchaia’s other hand.

Anarchaia knits her brow as the three disappear and reappear at the mouth of the cave one the ledge. “Who? Illidan? I think it’s been established that he’s not the nicest Stormrage brother…”

Alisbeth pouts. “He makes Grim angry.” She kicks a small imp away and grins as it screams all the way down into the fel hunter pit. “I want to do that again.” She spots another imp and bats it over the side with her axe.

Kel’ori blasts the ground under an imp and sends it up into the air and over the side of the bridge. She gives a small laugh and heads for the cave entrance. “Ladies?”

“Hm. I do feel rather badly for him,” Anarchaia mumbles as she passes both women. She frowns as she freezes a lone eredari’s hooves to the ground, then assaults their unarmored face with flames; the woman cries out as she burns, unable to run away. “Perhaps we should do something to cheer him up.”

Alisbeth smiles. “I bet he’d like a party. And booze. And naked girls.” She casually cuts the eredari’s head off and continues into the cave.

Kel’ori cocks an eyebrow. “You’re going to give your boyfriend naked girls?”

Alisbeth laughs. “He’s not my boyfriend, silly. And why not? He likes naked girls.”

Kel’ori sends an inquisitive look to Anarchaia.

She gives the other mage a shrug and a nervous titter. “She’s not wrong, heh.”

A pack of imps comes hopping around the corner, then stops when the bulk of them notices the women. Anarchaia throws a ring of frost below them, turning their skin an icy blue and slowing their movements.

Kel’ori blinks to the imps and an orb of energy pulses around her, shattering the limbs of some of the imps and killing off the weaker ones. She squeaks as one grabs the skirt of her robes and blinks back to the other two. “Get it _off!_”

Alisbeth laughs at the little demon holding on for dear life as the mage whirls around in a panic. “But he likes you!”

Anarchaia plucks the imp from Kel’ori’s robes, opens a small portal, then tosses it through. “All right, no more distractions. We need to get all the prisoners in this cave freed.” She makes her way through the first bend in the tunnel to find two cages nestled near the wall. She grabs the locks and they glow purple before springing free.

The two broken regard them with panic and gratitude before running to the exit.

“I’ll get those ones,” Kel’ori says, blinking to another set of cages.

Alisbeth runs past. “I want to free some! I’ll get—_oof!_” She lands on her backside and glares up at an inquisitor. “Watch it, ugly!”

Anarchaia runs to her side, palms filled with flames. A small portal opens and a green eye floats lazily out of it. The undead girl grits her teeth as her limbs freeze. A larger than usual pack of imps bounds down the bend ahead, chattering excitedly.

Alisbeth stands and smacks the inquisitor with her axe. “Let my friend go!”

“Look out!” Kel’ori screams. She blinks into the imps and pulses several times, weakening the them considerably. Before she can finish them off, another eye appears and captures the mage’s attention, who freezes in place, her eyes wide and focused on the one staring back at her.

“Let them go!” Alisbeth turns her attention on the eyes. They die in one hit and free the mages.

Kel’ori shrieks at the imps crawling up her skirt and explodes in several frantic, lavender bursts. They fall to the ground at her feet, but she continues, not convinced they’re properly dead.

Anarchaia stumbles as her muscles again agree to work. She growls and sends a blast-wave of fire from herself, finishing off the couple remaining imps and burning the inquisitor—still reeling from Alisbeth’s blow.

The demon gnashes his teeth angrily and opens another portal. More imps leap forward and hurl fireballs at anyone threatening their master.

Alisbeth throws a ring of decay beneath the imps and pulls them all into a convenient pile.

“Freeze them!” Kel’ori tells Anarchaia as she sends a huge, purple orb through the pile. The swirling vortex continues past until it hits the wall of the cave and explodes into shimmering sparkles.

The inquisitor wastes no time summoning another pack of imps, then begins to summon an eye.

Anarchaia nods and aims a slow moving orb of ice into the thick of the imps. She turns to aim a blast of fire at the inquisitor, but he’s already upon her with two demonic eyes floating silently behind. He grabs her by the throat and promptly lifts her off her feet. Green and violet swirl from the mage’s body and into his own. Anarchaia writhes for only a moment before slowly falling limp in his grasp. The eyes turn on the remaining women.

Kel’ori spins, then immediately stops in her tracks, her gaze locked on the eye. Alisbeth runs forward, tugging at her cousin, but unable to move her away. She stumbles and falls, her axe skittering across the floor of the cave. When she looks up a hug eye the size of her own head is leering down at her, and she is rendered motionless.

The inquisitor hums in satisfaction and lifts his free hand. “Sleep.” A greenish mist flutters from his sleeves and into Alisbeth and Kel’ori’s faces. The women close their blue eyes as they fall unconscious. “Fuel for the fel,” he hisses as the remaining imps scramble to lift the elves into the air with their short arms. The group makes its way down the narrow tunnel and into the nearest alcove with empty cages.

~ * ~

Alisbeth wakes to darkness, knowing her vision is foggy by the faint glow from her eyes. She reaches out a hand, searching blindly in the darkness until she finds the cold steel bars of a cage. She follows it around and around and around. When she finally realizes that she’s completely trapped, she screams and throws herself against the bars. She climbs up, tangling herself in the metal in the hopeless attempt to find an opening at the top. She finds none and releases her hands, so she can dangle by her knees and cry.

“Who’s there,” Kel’ori’s groggy voice comes through the darkness. The mage sits up, waiting for her vision to unblur in the darkness.

“Not me,” Alisbeth whispers.

“Ali? Is that you?”

The death knight covers her face. “No. I’m nothing. Nothing. I’m darkness. I’m nothing.”

Kel’ori frowns. “No, you’re not nothing. You’re talking, right? So, you’re you. And I’m me and Ana… Oh, gods, Ana?”

The undead mage does not stir in her place within her own cage, simply remains crumpled in a crescent on the floor.

“I’m nothing. I’m nothing.” Alisbeth mutters over and over.

Kel’ori growls and musters her power to create a small flame in her palm. Sweat drips into her eyes, but she is able to spot an unlit torch on a wall. She throws the flame and stumbles back. “Ugh. I hate fire magic. So hard.” She looks across the room to see Alisbeth dangling from the bars of her cage, head in her hands. “Open your eyes, doofus.”

Alisbeth opens her eyes and looks around. “I’m here!” She lifts her legs and lets herself fall to the dirt, then crawls over to where her cage nearly connects with Anarchaia’s. She reaches through the bars, trying to tap at the mage’s hand, but can’t quite reach.

Anarchaia groans and lifts her heavy head. “Ugh…” She pushes to her hands and knees. “What…what happened?”

Alisbeth frowns as her scrabbling hand goes ignored. “I looked into the eye. It was so pretty. I became stone. A pretty little statue. Do you think I’m a pretty statue?”

Kel’ori scoffs. “We got carried off by those _nasty_ little _imps_.” She shudders, then her gaze lands on her manicure. “They chipped a _nail!_ Now I’ll look ridiculous until I can get to a stylist.” She conjures an emery board and begins working to smooth the chip so it’s less conspicuous or likely to catch on something.

Anarchaia pats Alisbeth’s hand and stands shakily. She falls forward and braces herself on the bars. Memory eases its way back into her head. “Yes, Ali…very pretty.” She sighs, head swimming.

Grimory’s ears perk at the familiar voices and he finds his way to their chamber. He pulls his ears back and smirks. “Really, guys? Can’t leave y’all alone for a couple hours…”

“Spare us the patronizing.” Anarchaia groans and slides down the bars to her knees.

He chuckles and looks at the cages as he nears. “Not patronizing. Am I wrong, though?”

Alisbeth makes a face at him. “We couldn’t move. We were statues. And there were…fifty imps! _More!_”

Kel’ori jumps and smiles. “Oh! Grimory!” Her emery board puffs away in a violet cloud. “Thank the _gods_ you came. Be a doll and rip this cage door of with your…huge, rippling muscles, hmm?” She chews on her lower lip and bats her eyelashes at him.

Alisbeth stares across the cave, a look of disbelief sent at her cousin, who doesn’t notice.

The demon hunter raps a knuckle against one of the sturdy bars of Alisbeth’s cage and gives Kel’ori a grin. “Normally I’d have no problem slashing through these, but they look pretty new.” He looks at the lock. “And enchanted. Or I’m sure you’d just blink out, yeah?”

“Keys,” Anarchaia wheezes at knee level.

Grimory rolls his eyes. “No shit. I’ll be back.” He sets Alisbeth’s axe against the side of her cage and turns for the exit. “I’m sure there’s—”

A tall, floating figure cuts him off at the doorway. Its skull-like face, surrounded by horns, glares down. Grimory quickly reacts with hulking, black claws, but the inquisitor easily slides out of the way.

<<A hunter. You must be harboring one lost within that pathetic body,>> it hisses in Eredun. A swirling green light appears and from it flies a smoking eye, its red pupil peering about; it locks on Grimory.

The Illidari stops mid-stride and lowers his claws.

“_Grim, don’t look!_” Anarchaia cries from the opposite side of the room.

But it’s too late.

<<Release him,>> the inquisitor growls, lifting a gnarled, clawed hand.

Grimory cries out sharply and grits his teeth. Emerald energies eke from his pores and his skin stretches as his muscles swell. Horns poke through his arms and forehead and tear through his leather breeches, while the ones curled beside his face curl further. Skeletal wings with tattered, torn flesh hanging between the spines stretch outward and up. His boots burst at the seams as clawed toes break free of them. He chuckles darkly. <<Thanks.>> He slices the floating eye as easily as a fruit and, in almost the same motion, grasps the inquisitor by the throat.

<<Kath’rozak!>> he croaks, clawing at the hardened flesh of the demon’s claw.

<<That’s General Spinewing to you, vermin.>> A crunch, followed by the tearing of flesh, rings throughout the room as Spinewing tears the inquisitor’s head from his shoulders. He tosses both pieces to the dirt.

“_Disgusting!_” Kel’ori hisses and recoils.

“_Disgusting,_” Alisbeth echoes as though in a dream, running her fingers down the metal bars and biting her lower lip while pressing her thighs against one another.

Spinewing turns. His slit pupils scan over the three cages until finally coming to rest on the busty blond on the end. <<A new one.>> He steps forward, smoke flickering from his nostrils. <<And this one doesn’t smell as awful as the dead mage.>>

Kel’ori shies away from the door, fiddling with her hair nervously. “I-I haven’t fully learned Eredun yet, but if you said what I think you said, thank you.”

She flinches as the demon grabs the door with a massive claw. The metal screeches as it bends and tears from the hinges. It crashes against the far wall.

“Oh gods, thanks so much, Grim!” She steps forward and rests a delicate hand on his forearm.

“That’s not Grim,” Anarchaia says quietly from her end.

“Get away!” Alisbeth shouts, waving an arm. “He’s really strong and tall and hot, but he’s a big meanie!”

Kel’ori furrows her golden brows in confusion. She looks up at the demon towering over her and is suddenly filled with fear.

_Stop! Get away from her! Run, Kel’ori!_

Spinewing grins, his large fangs poking at his cheeks. He grabs her by the waist as she takes a step back; the girl chirps in surprise. “I like blonds,” he growls in Thalassian, his breath smelling of brimstone and blood.

Kel’ori’s eyes widen. “L-like?” She cries out as she’s thrown to the ground. She scoots away on her backside as he advances. “S-stay away!” She hurls a small shard of ice at his face.

He merely flinches, then lowers to crawl after her on his knuckles and toes, more beast than man, and chuckles. He grabs her by the ankle and pulls her to him. She shrieks and is immediately silenced with a burning hand around her throat. A groan sounds within her chest as a hot, wet tongue swirls across her cheek.

She whimpers. “I’ll do…whatever you…want…” she chokes.

“Yes, you will.”


	17. Chapter 17

Taveth narrows his eyes across to the cave as he opens the last of the cages. “Grim sure has been gone a long time. You think he’s okay?”

A chill runs up Koltira’s spine. “If I’m being honest…no.” He drags Taveth down as the last cage opens, then takes him by the elbow to practically drag him to the cave.

Taveth shakes free. “I may be weak, but I know how to run.” He breaks into a sprint. “Are you sure that’s the cave?”

Koltira growls. “No.”

“Right. I’ll check.”

“You’ll what?”

Taveth stops Koltira at the mouth of the cave and sets his fingers together, then spins his hands around to summon an eye of Gul’dan that drops to his feet.

Koltira shies back. “You’re a _warlock?_”

Without opening his eyes, he nods. “It was an accident, really. Please don’t tell Ali.” He concentrates on seeing through the eye as it zips unseen through the tunnels. Finally he comes upon a chamber with two locked cages containing Alisbeth and Anarchaia, the third torn open. Then he sees him, stomping his way to the cage containing Alisbeth, who has pressed herself so far back, she’s begun climbing up the bars as she glares at him. Then Taveth sees his sister, naked and covered in blood, crying and alone in the dirt, and he nearly loses his concentration.

“This is it,” he forces himself to whisper. “Two lefts and a right. Run!”

“What about—”

But the high elf is already a pile of ash on the ground. Koltira shrugs and runs in.

Taveth appears in the room and rips the dagger from his satchel. He points it at Spinewing as the demon’s claws wrap around the cage door. “_You’re dismissed!_” he screams, holding himself back from attacking the demon, knowing he would only be hurting Grimory.

Spinewing jerks his head at the voice, then cries out as his muscles contract and shrink. <<_No!!_>> he bellows. The horns on his shoulders and thighs retract into the flesh and his claws and wings melt back into his form until only an unconscious Grimory lies face-down in the dirt.

Anarchaia, sitting at the back of her cage with her face in her hands, peeks through her fingers while she trembles. “T-Taveth…”

The elf drops to his knees over Kel’ori, almost afraid to touch her. She keeps her face turned away and buried in the sand in shame.

<<Oh, what have we here?>> Thal’kiel asks with mild interest. <<Ah, the smell of sulfer and blood. Demonic mating grounds? Interesting place to—>>

“Shut up!” Taveth screams. He hurls the dagger at the skull, but Thal’kiel disappears before it reaches him. The dagger lands in the dirt just shy of Koltira’s boot.

“Okay, woah, throwing th— Oh, gods. What happened? Ana? Are you okay?” He strides to her cage.

Alisbeth presses her tear-streaked face to the bars and grabs at the air. “Let me out! Grim! _Grim!_”

Anarchaia stands despite her slowly waxing strength and throws her arms around Koltira through the bars. She sniffles, holding back sobs. “Kolt, the keys,” she whispers beneath Alisbeth’s screaming, pointing to the body of the mangled inquisitor near the doorway.

He hesitantly pulls away and grabs the keys, freeing Alisbeth first, knowing once Anarchaia is out of the cage he won’t let her go.

The death knight explodes from the cage and throws herself onto Grimory, turning him over as she sobs. “Grim? Wake up!”

Once the second cage is open, Koltira doesn’t wait. He grabs the mage into his arms and holds tight, pulling her across the threshold as though somehow she could get shut in again, should she linger. “Ana, oh gods. Are you okay?”

Kel’ori sniffles. “_She’s_ fine. _Everyone_ is fine!” She curls slightly, hissing in pain as she tries to hide her nudity from the others. “I’m not okay,” she whispers to Taveth. “Okay? I’m not okay.”

Taveth grabs her shredded robes and wraps them over his sister’s front. He bites hard on the inside of his lip until he can taste blood, just to keep himself composed for her. “You’re safe now, Kel.” He pulls her close and she grips him, then screams cries into his vest.

Anarchaia grips the elf tightly in her arms, shoulders shuddering as she continues to hold back her weeping. The sounds and images she’d gotten glimpses of through her fingers replay fresh in her mind, followed by the look on Spinewing’s smoking, smirking face as he made his way toward Alisbeth and herself. Her grip tightens and a sob escapes her, but Kel’ori’s screaming jolts through her. She slowly releases Koltira and rubs at her running nose while stepping around him. She slides her robes off her head and cautiously comes to kneel beside the battered elf. “Here,” she says through her sadness. “They’re probably too small and will dampen your fire magic, but…” She shrugs and forces a smile.

Kel’ori nods, unable to smile at the kindness. Taveth helps her into the robes as she hisses at the wound in her shoulder from the demon’s fangs. She sucks in a breath and frowns. “I’m sorry.” Purple magic flies to the seams and pops them along the sides to fit her much larger bust. “I’ll fix them. I promise,” she says through small hiccups. Then she looks at her feet. “My _shoes_ don’t match!” She throws herself on Taveth to resume sobbing.

Anarchaia cringes as the seams of her treasured robes burst. _Ugh, why can’t_ I _have breasts that big?_ She shakes her head and wipes the tears from her eye. “Don’t worry about it. I can have them fixed whenever. You…you relax.”

Alisbeth sucks in a breath. “Grim won’t wake up and you’re worried about _fashion?_”

Kel’ori sneers. “After what that monster did to me, you still care about him? Leave him here to rot with the other demons.”

Taveth frowns. “Kel, that wasn’t Grim.”

Koltira looks around at the others. “I’m missing a huge detail.”

Grimory suddenly sits up and reflexively runs a hand over his hair. The events of only moments ago rush into him and he gives a fleeting glance to Kel’ori, then down at his shaking fingers.

Alisbeth wraps herself around the demon hunter and cries. “Grim! I was so worried! Are you okay?”

“He’s fucking fine!” Kel’ori screams. “You’re a monster. I hate you!”

Taveth grips Kel’ori tighter. “It wasn’t Grim.”

Koltira purses his lips. “I’d better be getting an explanation later. Who can walk?” He stares at the two mages. Pursing his lips at the blood staining the ground around the blond one.

The demon hunter flinches and looks down and away as he’s yelled at, eyes closed. He gently untangles himself from Alisbeth and stands, then makes his way wordlessly toward the exit.

Anarchaia watches him go and frowns. “Grim, wait! I can…” Her voice trails off as he disappears around the corner. She sighs and lifts a still trembling hand. “I think I have it in me for a portal…” The space before her distorts as it warps into a swirling door if light, a picture of the Vindicaar’s lower decks inside it.

Alisbeth runs after the demon hunter. “Grim, wait! Please!”

Grimory ignores Alisbeth as she follows him to the cave entrance. Once there, he spreads his wings and takes to the skies, leaving the group behind.

Alisbeth falls to the ground as he shakes her off. She screams out for him, but doesn’t move, because she cannot follow.

Taveth helps Kel’ori to her feet, but she cries out and collapses. Koltira catches her before she falls.

“Okay so, that’s one. Ana, how about you?” Koltira lifts his brow at her.

Taveth holds out his hands. “I can help.”

Anarchaia shakes her head and straightens. “I’m fine,” she says, hiding her dizziness and repressed fear. “Please, go on. Don’t worry about me…”

“Let’s get you to the medical—”

“No!” Kel’ori shouts, cutting Koltira off. “I don’t want them all…looking at me. Those pious draenei would call me…” She frowns and leans her head on Koltira’s shoulder.

Taveth sighs. “I’ll go get Ali.” When he goes outside and sees only Alisbeth, he furrows his brow. “Grim?”

“He left me,” Alisbeth half whispers.

“I’m sure he’ll be back. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He coaxes her back inside and through the portal.

Anarchaia sighs. “You don’t have to go to the infirmary here. We’ll take you back to Dalaran once we’re back aboard the ship, okay?” She rests a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

Kel’ori flinches at the contact. “Thank you.”

Taveth retrieves his dagger and the skull appears once more.

<<Excuse me, I was _talking_ to y—>>

The elf slips the dagger into his bag and follows Alisbeth, then waits for the others. Koltira appears through the portal a moment later.

Anarchaia follows and inhales slowly as the portal behind her closes. She ushers the group toward the central chamber where she knows the portal to Dalaran to be. “If I thought I wanted to drink myself silly _before_…”

Koltira nods. “Agreed. Drinks on me.”

“Ana?” Kel’ori whimpers. “Don’t let the other apprentices see me, please.”

Anarchaia nods. “I won’t. I promise.”

Koltira purses his lips. “If you’re too scared to let any healers—”

“Just not the ones that know me!”

Koltira lowers his brow. “Which ones don’t know you?”

The mage says nothing.

Taveth sighs over at her. “I suppose we could get a room and find a healer?”

Once the party passes into Dalaran, Anarchaia quickly opens another portal, this one leading to Alisbeth’s room, and urges them through that as well. “We know of a couple trustworthy healers…if you’re okay with that.” She says once everyone’s safely on the other side.

Koltira sets the high elf gently on the bed; she curls up, covering her face.

“Do it,” Taveth says.

“What if Grim doesn’t come back?” Alisbeth asks.

“Good,” Kel’ori growls.

Koltira grabs Alisbeth by the arm and drags her from the room, after a quick look to make sure Anarchaia is okay. Once in the hall, he spins on her. “Why are you defending him when he clearly did—”

“It wasn’t _him!_” she shrieks. “It was _Spinewing!_”

“Who the fuck is Spinewing?”

“His demon. Last time he got out he almost killed all of us in Ashnaz.”

“Azsuna?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “It’s not Grim, okay? He would never do that or this. And you people made him _leave me!_” She launches at him, her fists raised and pounding at his chest.

Anarchaia sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. “Look, Kel’ori. You’ve got to believe us. That _wasn’t_ Grimory. He wouldn’t do something like that.” She rests a hesitant hand on her shoulder, then retracts it and stands again. “I’ll go find Juliember,” she says quietly and opens the door, then stops just short of the two on the other side. With magic she pulls Alisbeth away and stands between them. “Woah, what’s going on here?” she hisses.

“He thinks it was Grim!” Alisbeth shrieks.

“All I’m saying is if it walks like a dick and talks like a dick—”

Alisbeth throws herself at him again. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Anarchaia throws up a weak shield of violet in front of Alisbeth and scowls. “Okay, that’s enough. Violence isn’t necessary here.” She looks over her shoulder at Koltira and motions for the stairwell. “Come with me and I’ll explain.” She turns back to Alisbeth. “You stay with your cousins and see to it that Kel’ori has everything she needs.”

“You tell him, Azkaban. You tell him it wasn’t Grim. He didn’t do it.”

Taveth ignores the noise on the other side of the door and gently strokes Kel’ori’s hair, careful not to let his fingers tangle in the dried blood.

“How can you all say it wasn’t him?” she asks.

“Every demon hunter has a demon’s soul within them. Sometimes they get out.”

“It was _Grim!_ You weren’t there.”

Taveth sighs. “I’ll try to explain when you’re feeling better.”

He stands to leave, but she reaches her hand out to pull on him.

“Please don’t leave me alone! Please.”

He sits back down and resumes stroking her hair. “Just…no more talking about Grimory.”

Alisbeth opens the door. “Kel, do you n—”

“Go away!” Kel’ori shouts.

“Fine.” Alisbeth slams the door, then spins and leans back against it to seethe.

~ * ~

Koltira follows the mage, his jaw clenched. “I feel like Kel’ori and I are the only ones putting blame where it clearly belongs.”

The mage sighs and rubs her palms over her face as they exit the lounge. “Demon hunters feed on the soul of a demon as initiation. It’s what causes them to mutate and gives them their demonic powers. Most—if not _all_—of the ones that don’t die from this are able to harness the soul within them and command them with little trouble. Grim can’t. It’s why only his arms are ever fully morphed during combat…”

Koltira purses his lips. “I had no idea Grimory was a _bad_ demon hunter.” His voice bears a heaviness and understanding.

Anarchaia knits her brow slightly. “He’s not a _bad_ demon hunter,” she corrects lightly. “The demon inside him is incredibly powerful. The fact that he can restrain him at all is an amazing feat in itself.” She turns into the nearest tavern and scans the crowd for a druid.

Koltira furrows his brow upward. “Wait, what? That’s not what I… Ali said to me years ago that I was a bad death knight because the Lich King never fully held sway over me. I was able to stop myself killing her. My will was too strong for the Lich King to fully contain.” He shrugs. “Though, she could be wrong. There.” He points across the tavern at a familiar sort of staff. “Juliember had one like that, right?”

Anarchaia gives him a faint smirk breath her mask. “I’d say that’s a _beneficial bad_, then.” She also notices the staff and nods before weaving through the crowd.

<<Ah, masked mage,>> Juliember regards in Orcish with the faintest of smiles. She lowers her stein. <<And pretty boy death knight. What ya be needin’?>>

Anarchaia hesitates. <<We…have a friend who’s been hurt. She wants it kept discreet. Could you…? We’ll make it worth your time. Heh.>>

The troll smirks and eyes the girl before her. <<Oh?>>

<<Monetary.>> Anarchaia purses her lips.

Juliember gives a faint laugh and stands. She tosses a few coins on the table and nods to her friends. <<Good enough for me. Where we be headin’?>>

The mage leads them back into the streets. <<Thanks again.>>

The trio step back into Alisbeth’s room after a quiet knock. Anarchaia locks the door behind them. “S-so, this is Juliember. She’s a druid…obviously. Very skilled. Promised discretion. Heh.”

Taveth looks up at the others and nods. “That was fast.” <<Well met, Juliember.>>

Kel’ori frowns. “Is this the only healer you know?”

Koltira purses his lips. “Yes. Trust us, she’s good at what she does.”

Anarchaia chuckles nervously. “The only other one I know by name is a drunkard.” She pauses and taps at her chin. “And an engineer, come to think of it.”

Juliember pushes the mage out of the way and steps forward. <<What ails you?>>

Anarchaia perks and grabs Juliember by the arm. “U-uh, perhaps we should give her some privacy, first…”

Kel’ori shrinks back and grips Taveth’s hand. “What is she saying? What is she doing? Don’t leave me alone with this savage!”

“She was just asking what’s wrong. Do you want me to stay?” Taveth grips her hand back.

“Would you be mad if I asked for Ana instead?”

He shakes his head. “I understand.” He stands and opens the door for Koltira to exit. “We’ll be right outside.”

Anarchaia watches the men go and gives a fleeting wave, then pulls up a chair to sit beside the bed. She offers a hand and lifts her mask to smile.

Taveth glances up and down the hallway. “Was Ali out here when you got here?”

Koltira leans against the wall, his arms crossed. “Nope.”

Juliember rolls her eyes as the door closes then turns and cracks her knuckles. <<Well?>>

Anarchaia frowns. <<She was…raped. Can you undo the damage?>>

Juliember cocks a brow. <<How badly?>>

Anarchaia furrows her brow. <<Does it matter?>>

<<I be needin’ to know what to heal and how much energy to devote.>>

Anarchaia hesitates and looks at Kel’ori. “U-uhm. What hurts and how badly? Heh.”

Kel’ori takes the mage’s offered hand. “Wh-what are you saying? What’s…” She frowns and starts to cry. “Everything hurts. Do I need to take off your— She won’t hurt me? You promise?”

Anarchaia smiles and nods. “Yeah, it would help. And I promise. She’s just here to help.”

Juliember folds her arms and purses her lips between her tusks. <<Today, maybe?>>

Kel’ori nods and struggles to sit up, crying out as her weight puts pressure on her injuries. Instead she tries to grip the robe from the bottom, hissing at the pain in her shoulder and hips until she can bear it no longer. She falls onto her back, crying. “It hurts too much. It’s stuck to the blood. What do I do?”

Anarchaia furrows her brow and sets a comforting hand on Kel’ori’s, then grabs her torn robes with the other; they shimmer with violet sparkles as they pull away from the elf’s body, then fade back to solid in her fingers. She sets them aside. “Did that hurt?” A damp cloth appears in her open palm and Juliember snatches it away before the undead girl can use it.

The troll gets to work cleaning the blood from Kel’ori’s neck and shoulder as well as any other substances dried on her skin. <<Besides the bruises, scratches, and bite, the damage looks internal.>>

Anarchaia nods. <<Y-yes. Uhm…both.>>

Juliember lifts her eyebrows. <<Both.>>

Anarchaia nods again.

The troll blinks a couple times, then gets to work healing the superficial gashes and punctures.

Kel’ori shakes her head. “No, it didn—” She hisses as the troll scrubs over the wounds. “This is so embarrassing. Did you tell her…about… I said it wouldn’t fit. Why didn’t he listen to me? Why did he do this?” She presses her forehead to the mage’s hand, gripping it as she sobs.

Anarchaia frowns and resists the urge to cry as well just from the sound alone. “Kel’ori, what you saw wasn’t Grimory. The _real_ Grim has the soul of a powerful Doomlord inside him and…and when he gets out…” The thought of how Grimory must be feeling at the moment crosses her mind and she cringes, resisting tears. “Spinewing is an atrocity. Even by demonic standards.”

Juliember sets a hand atop Kel’ori’s abdomen, then grits her teeth. <<There’s a lot of damage inside. This will be a moment. Was it a horse?>>

Anarchaia sneers at the troll. <<A demon.>>

“It was Grim’s body, Ana! It was him!” She shudders the smallest bit at the troll’s touch. “I just want to wake up from this nightmare.”

Anarchaia’s jaw tightens as she chooses her words carefully. “No. He…he was _in_ there, but none of those actions were his own.” She sobers again. “I-in fact, he…probably was just as—”

<<Does she have a talisman?>> Juliember blurts as she works.

Anarchaia furrows her brow up at the druid. <<Is that even possible?>>

<<Does she be wantin’ to find out the hard way?>>

Anarchaia chews on her cheek and looks back to Kel’ori. “Were… _Are_ you wearing a contraceptive talisman?”

Kel’ori’s eyes round. “Is that even— Could that— _Yes!_ I have one. I have one.” She gives a few triumphant laughs, then frowns and sobs harder. “He’s a monster. Why me?”

Anarchaia sighs and pats her hand. “Evil uses no discrimination, Kel’ori. It could have been anyone.”

Juliember scowls. <<So?>>

<<O-oh! Right. Yes. She has one.>>

The troll rolls her eyes and remains quiet for a long while whilst she works. When finished, she straightens. <<It is done. She just be needin’ rest. Lots of it.>> She smirks. <<And whoever this was, you wouldn’t happen to know how to contact them?>>

Anarchaia scowls up at her. <<You’re lucky she can’t understand you.>>

Juliember chuckles. <<Oh, she can’t? Shame. I’m sure she’d know.>>

Anarchaia conjures a small coin purse filled with gold pieces and hands it over. <<Thank you. Really.>>

The troll pockets the small bag and turns to leave while Anarchaia pulls the blankets over Kel’ori. “I’ll go to the Hall and get you some clothes, okay?”

The blonde mage sniffles and nods, but says nothing as they leave.

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at the door as it opens. “I assume she’s still alive?” He slips a sly wink to the druid.

“As ever,” the troll responds in her slow Thalassian. She gives the quartet a wave and makes down the stairs. <<A pleasure doing business as always.>>

Anarchaia closes the door behind her and sighs. “I-I think she’s going to be fine. Physically. Jules says she needs lots of rest.” She leans against the door and takes a second to collect herself. “I’m running to the Hall quick to grab her some clothes. You guys should just…stay with her.”

Taveth pushes inside immediately to see his sister.

Koltira takes Anarchaia’s hand. “And how are you? I know it’s not the same, but, you’ve been through hell, too.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow and ponders for a while on her words. “I’ll…be fine.” She squeezes his hand and smiles, then leans up to kiss him. “After I get her some new robes, I’ll take you up on those drinks, okay?”

“I’ll meet you in the tavern. This one or the Nightheart tavern?” he chuckles.

Anarchaia ponders. “The Nighthearts’.” She chuckles as well and pats him on the shoulder. “Maybe your buddy will be there.” With a wave, she disappears in a swirl of light. Once at the Hall, she stops the nearest student and gives a nervous titter. “Uh…Kel’ori Nightheart’s room?”

The apprentice sneers. “Third floor. Room seventeen.” She turns away and makes for the stairs before Anarchaia can thank her.

The undead girl calls her gratitude anyway and goes to the directed room. She glances up and down the corridor before using magic to free the lock and step inside. She quickly rummages through Kel’ori’s expansive wardrobe and chooses a pastel lilac dress with matching sandals and cloak. She grabs a clean brassiere and panties and locks the door from the inside before disappearing.

Anarchaia knocks before stepping back into Alisbeth’s room. She gives a small smile and sets the neatly folded clothes at the foot of the bed and goes to pick up her own robes. “Feeling better, yet?” she says on a quiet laugh.

Kel’ori smiles at the outfit on her bed. “Thank you. I, um, think I’m just going to sleep for a while.” She avoids saying anything else about Grimory and closes her eyes, hoping it’s not all she sees behind the lids.

Taveth sighs. “Want me to go, too?”

“No.”

He casts Anarchaia an apologetic look. “Enjoy your drinks.”

Anarchaia smiles and tilts her head. _I don’t think I could rightfully enjoy anything right now._ “Thanks. Get well soon, Kel’ori.” She closes the door gingerly and heads for the tavern. Once there she hops to look over the surprisingly large crowd until she finds a set of tall ears and long white hair by the bar. She takes up a seat beside Koltira and gives a tired smile. “All done. Heh.”

Koltira drags the mage into his side and holds her with one arm circling her waist. “Oh good. I hope you don’t mind, I started without you. And got you something.” He sets a large glass of wine in front of her. “Let’s stay off the stronger stuff tonight, right?”

Anarchaia leans against him and eyes the cup placed before. Her smile slowly fades. She turns her head to press her face into his cuirass and wraps her arms around his torso. “I love you so much.”

He pulls her tighter and sets his nose to the top of her head to smell her perfume. “I love you to the ends of Azeroth. And Argus.” He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “I don’t know what I would have done had he harmed you… I’d… I might have killed Grim on the spot.”

Anarchaia smiles against the metal of his breastplate. “He’d be back, so no harm done, really…?” She gives a faint laugh that fades into a frown. “Jokes aside, he wouldn’t deserve that. It wasn’t his fault.” She sighs, refusing to let go. “He had to suffer through that, too.”

He sighs and swallows his whiskey in one gulp. “Trust me, I understand how he must feel.” He gently swirls the glass on the tabletop with his free hand. “Okay. Let’s try and not talk about this all night. Choose a subject.”

She furrows her brow, curious but wanting to obey his desire for a new topic. Arms still around him and forehead on the side of his chest, she talks into his armor. “If you found a genie’s lamp in the deserts of Uldum, and he gave you three wishes, what would you wish for?”

Koltira smirks. “Easy. Be left alone, just the two of us. Children. And…undo what happened to Kel’ori. What about you?”

Anarchaia sobers but her smile remains. “I’d…wish to be alive again. And be alone with you in the woods with our children. And…” She pauses. “And for our friends to be happy.” She reaches over and takes a sip from her cup.

Koltira smiles down at her. “Well, I know who gets the lamp.”

She grins back but rolls her eyes. “No one because they don’t exist.” A hum of a laugh rings into her cup and she sets it back down. “Okay,” she says, now desperate to talk of other things. “Would you rather…be the strongest person on the planet or the most attractive?” She shoots him a crooked grin. “If you didn’t hold both titles already.”

He chuckles. “Strongest. What about you? Would you rather be the most powerful caster in all the world, or the most beautiful—which you’ll disagree, but I think you already are the latter.”

“Definitely the most powerful. What good has being beautiful ever done Azeroth?” She sighs dreamily. “I don’t think I’d want to be something like Guardian, though. So much responsibility. I’d just disappoint everyone.” She presses her cheek against him. “And you’re right. I do disagree.”

Koltira sighs and stares at the crowded tavern, at the blond Nightheart head behind the counter, at his empty glass. He looks down at Anarchaia and pulls her closer to speak so only she may hear. “What say we head to that house of yours, get trashed on stolen liquor like the good old days, and see if we manage to clean it or burn it down?”

The mage also glances down at the Nightheart sibling—oblivious of his sister’s condition—and frowns. She turns to look up at him and smiles again. “Yes.” Her grin widens and she pushes her face beneath his chin to gently nuzzle against his neck. “And _forget_ to let anyone know where we went.” She finishes her wine and slides from her seat, then extends a hand.

“Mmm, alone for who knows how long…” He takes her hand and stands, drops some gold on the counter, and practically drags the mage from the tavern.


	18. Chapter 18

The days passed before Kel’ori was seen again. She’d finally vacated Alisbeth’s room, tired of the death knight moping over her missing demon hunter—who’d vanished without a trace and had yet to reappear. In an attempt to distract herself, Kel’ori began working to adjust her blue robes to fit the other mage’s much, _much_ smaller bustline.

The elf frowns at the mask she is making—pure white, for now, but she intended to dye the cloth in shades of blue in a pattern similar to Anarchaia’s. She sets it on the table and stands, then stride into the hallway with determination. It was the first step she’d taken from her room in days and she takes in a deep breath as a few apprentices and students stop to wave. She waves back and goes through the halls until she is absolutely lost. She teleports herself to Khadgar’s office and knocks gently on the door.

A quiet sigh sounds from the other side of the door before footfalls approach it. It opens and an exhausted archmage lifts his eyebrows in the slightest of ways. “Oh. Miss Nightheart. Good afternoon.”

Kel’ori straightens and smiles. “Hello, Archmage Khadgar. I was wondering if you, um… Well, can you tell me where Anarchaia’s room is? I got a little lost.”

He runs a hand over his hair and back over his neck. “Down one floor. Room number eight.” He furrows his brow. “She’s not there, however.”

“Oh! That’s okay. I can slip a note under her door.” She turns and hesitates, her smile wavering. “Do you know where she is?”

“Home,” he simply says, wear in his voice.

Kel’ori frowns entirely as her eyes round. “For how long? She can’t leave me! I mean, we’re…a team, right? Study buddies. She…still isn’t doing her homework, though, is she? But, no!” Khadgar’s eyes widen and his silver brows knit. “No, she isn’t doing her homework, actually.”

The mage backs slowly down the hall, running her fingers through her hair. “She’s coming back? Right?”

He lifts his hands to calm her, face softening. “She’d decided she needed a break, so she left to refurbish her house. I’m unsure of when she’ll return. I…can send a letter if you’d like.”

Kel’ori fidgets and averts her eyes. “If you could. It’s nothing urgent I just…need her for a project?”

Khadgar smiles a faint, reassuring smile. “I’ll let her know. Is there anything else you needed?”

Kel’ori forces her smile back. “Me? No. Um, no. That’s everything. Thank you!” She teleports away before he can say anything else, appearing in front of the appointed door for the other mage. The hallway is empty and Kel’ori notes that it seems a rather abandoned section. Slowly she weaves her fingers over the door. “Clever girl.” She works on the wards over Anarchaia’s door, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Strange place to run into you,” a familiar voice says behind her.

The elf jumps and spins, her eyes wide. She presses to the door as Kalec smiles patiently down at her. “Master Kalec. What brings you to…” She waves her hand around the area. “Here.”

“Well, I just got a note from Khadgar that my apprentice is acting strangely in the Halls, rather than on Antorus helping the efforts against the Burning Legion.” His smile widens at her. “And now I find you breaking into another apprentice’s room?”

Kel’ori’s eyes widen. “This? What? No. No, I’m— She left a thing— I’m getting a—”

“Slow down,” he says, chuckling. “You’re not in trouble. You’re here on Miss Starling’s request?”

“Mm-hmm.” The mage doesn’t move, her hands behind her back and lips pursed.

“She told you about her wards?”

“Mm… Mm-hmm.”

“She didn’t tell you how to take them down, did she?” He smiles wide, a sparkle in his eye.

“She…may have skipped that part.” She chews on her bottom lip.

“Go on then. Let’s see you crack it.” He steps closer into her personal space and turns her around by her shoulders. He slides his hands up her arms to lift her hands to the door.

Kel’ori holds her breath at his touch, normally it would send a chill up her spine, but this time it makes her heart clench. She squeaks and jumps to the side as his hands find her waist, reminding her of the demon’s claws pulling her closer. “Sorry, Kale— Master. I…” She clears her throat. “I need to concentrate. Please.”

The blue haired man steps back, his brow furrowed in concern. “That’s fine, Kel. Go on, take your time.”

She nods and spreads her hands long her navy robes, smoothing them as she calms herself. She raises her hands to the door and works slowly, concentrating on the wards she’s unfamiliar with.

“Good,” Kalec mutters. He steps forward again as his apprentice falters on the final, much more complicated ward. He sets his hands on hers and guides her through the motions to take the ward down and unlock the door.

Kel’ori’s back stiffens and her breath catches in her lungs. “Thank you.” She gasps, stepping into the room. “My homework will be on your desk in the morning.” She slams the door and takes several deep breaths. Tears well in her eyes. _It’s not fair! He shouldn’t terrify me like that!_ An idea springs into her mind and she rushes back to the door. “Kalec!” she shouts.

The man stumbles back as she runs into him. “Kel, what’s wrong? You seem…disturbed. And you’re crying.”

Kel’ori shoves the heel of her palms into her eyes to wipe them, then frowns up at the man. “Don’t send me back to Argus. Please, Kalec. I can’t go back.”

He smiles his patient smile and gently takes her hands. “Give me your argument, then. Sway me.”

“I-it’s horrible. There’s blood everywhere and so much killing and—”

“Kel, you wanted to be an Archmage, and that requires getting into the mess, getting your hands dirty. If you can’t do that, then I can’t graduate you.” He studies her for a long time. “You have a better reason?”

The elf chews on her lip, her chin threatening a quiver as she finds she can’t meet his eye, nor can she say out loud why she can’t return to the other world. “No,” she whispers.

“Then you stay with Anarchaia. You work together. Okay?”

Kel’ori nods. Kalec takes her into an embrace and she breathes in, thankful that at least his smell gives her comfort. As he turns to leave, he hesitates. “Miss Nightheart, if Anarchaia doesn’t start turning in her homework, I’ll have to start deducting points from yours. It’s a team effort. Understood?”

The elf resists the urge to scream about her grades, instead balling her fists until her nails dig into her palms. “Yes, Master Kalec. Be well.”

“And you.”

Once behind the door again, Kel’ori resists the urge to send arcane explosions at the nearest wall, especially after noticing all four are covered in floor-to-ceiling book cases filled with tomes. The rest of the room is a small disaster. To clear her mind, the mage begins picking up the mess. Books mark their places and drift back to their designated spaces on the shelves. The bedsheets and blanket lift to prove their cleanliness, then slip around the bed and tuck in smoothly. Kel’ori giggles at the negligee that looks to have been worn once, then stuffed into the piano as though to be hidden from existence. Instead of putting it away, she lays it out on the bed as a hint for the other mage to actually wear it for the death knight. Sheet music organizes itself, and finally, the torn robes fly to her and fold, then set into her hands. The rest of the clothing surrounding the bed as though cast off in a hurry and forgotten to the floor, floats up and into the small hamper in the corner. She sighs and exits the room, the hamper lifting and following a few feet behind, then sets up as many wards as she knows, hoping Anarchaia doesn’t get angry that her strongest was neglected.

With a small pop, Kel’ori reappears in her room, thinking nothing of the giant mess she’s been forming over the day—fabrics and threads, beads and frog clasps, and her dye kit waiting in the corner away from everything else. She sits at her sewing table and sets to work meticulously repairing the stiches along the side of the crimson robes.

~ * ~

The blond elf appears in the portal room in the tall tower of Stormwind. He smiles at the woman tending the portal to the Outlands, then strides from the room. Taveth makes his way across the city, stopping once to go home and say hello to his father, making an excuse for why his sister didn’t return with him. He spends an hour with his little sister—his cousin, he reminds himself. Then he says goodbye to Diori and goes to the scribe hut.

“Ah, Mr. Nightheart. Five more books and five more linked, as promised. The colors correspond to each pair, of course. And I’ve numbered them this time.” The plumping man pushes the two stacks forward.

“As for payment—”

The man waves his hand in the air. “No. No. A city guard came to pay the fee this morning. Friend of yours? You’d think they have better things to do than run errands. Ha.”

With a nervous smile, Taveth shoves the books into his satchel until it is bursting. “Y-yes. Friend of mine. Heh. Th-thank you.” He stands awkwardly for a moment as though he still feels he should pay. The elf finally waves and exits the shop.

It takes the scholar a good amount of time to reach the castle, where the guards permit him with a small nod of recognition. He stops in the throne room and waits as Genn Greymane whispers in the boy king’s ear. Taveth bows low. “Your Majesties.”

King Anduin Wrynn looks up from the parchment he’d been pouring over and smiles. Rolling up the letter, he hands it to his advisor and stands. “My friend,” he says, patting Taveth gently on the shoulder. “How goes? I’ve been enthralled by what you’ve given so far. The librarians and record keepers are ecstatic.”

Genn Greymane shifts and folds his arms, parchment still in a hand.

Taveth blushes slightly, but keeps wary eyes on the worgen. “It goes…well. I must apologize for my last entry. But, I, eh, I’m here to borrow a book from the library. For my sister. _A Study of Mages,_ I’m sure you know of it by now?”

Anduin scratches at his cheek then seemingly remembers he’s wearing gloves and drops his arm back to his side. “No apologies necessary. And, you know, the title sounds familiar. Come, let’s see for ourselves, no?” He ushers Taveth toward the great library of the palace.

Taveth accompanies the young king to the library. In among the shelves he looks over his shoulder at the worgen advisor following them. “I see you remain…well looked over. Heh.”

“Can you blame them?” He leads the high elf to the section where he believes the tome to be and leans close. “This doesn’t leave the space between us, but hostilities between the Horde and Alliance are again growing. No risks are being taken.” He purses his lips. “And no, I don’t enjoy it.”

Taveth forces a smile at Genn. “I can’t imagine so.” He frowns, then, his gaze wandering to his own feet. “Is there cause for me to worry?”

Genn narrows his eyes at the elf but remains silent.

Anduin straightens again and browses the shelves. He waves a hand dismissively. “Only if you have little faith in our ranks.” His fingertips find an empty space on the shelf. “Oh, that’s right.” He looks over his shoulder to give his advisor a humble grin. “I’ve been reading our only copy.” He heads for the large oaken doors at the opposite end of the library. “It’s in the solar.”

Taveth follows closely as the worgen falls just the littlest bit behind. “A word in private, my king?” he hisses quickly.

Anduin chuckles as though he’d just been told a joke and opens the door to the solar to usher Taveth inside. He holds up a hand to Genn and smiles. “No need to worry. We won’t be but a moment. Stay watch right here, would you?”

The worgen man blinks. “But Your Grace—”

“My thanks.” The king closes the heavy door and turns to Taveth, his smile gone and replaced with a look of exasperation. “What is it?” he inquires quietly over the burning fireplace.

Taveth swallows and frowns. “I’ve never had friends before, your grace, and now that I do…they’re all enemies of the kingdom. Do I run risk of being tried as a traitor? Or m-my sister, who was recently assigned by Kalec to join us? Does his majesty have sights on my friends and cousin? I’d rather not be the bait that sees them murdered.” His hands grip the strap of his satchel so tight that his knuckles are white and his palms grow redder by the second. He realizes with silent embarrassment that he is shaking the smallest bit, but gives no hint that he’s aware of it. “S-sorry…for being so frank.”

Anduin crosses the room to set a calming hand over Taveth’s quivering one. “Taveth, trust me I know who your friends are. Did you think the guards I’d sent were just for show?” He pats him on the shoulder. “The only ones at risk are the death knight man and the Illidari. The women are all under Kirin Tor affiliation. You need not worry.”

Taveth blushes at the contact, but forces himself to look his king in the eye. “I’d appreciate it if G-Grimory—and Koltira, of course, I don’t wish to—” He clears his throat. “They are also my friends, and I can assure you neither of them are _actually_ enemies, so, if that can be…written somewhere.” He clears his throat again, then shifts his heavy pack. “Oh! I nearly forgot. Your new books. Um…” He shuffles through to find the double numbers and hand the second copies to Anduin.

The king takes the copies and frowns down at them. “I…can try. It may rouse suspicion if I pardon two seemingly random individuals of the opposing faction.” He inspects the spines idly and crooks his lips while he thinks, then sets them aside. “I can promise nothing. But I’ll see what’s available to me. And thank you. For the tomes.”

Taveth nods. “I trust my king with my friends’ lives. No need to raise any suspicions. Heh. Thank you. And, um…I’m not sure if I’ll fill in those last pages. It’s rather…personal.” Taveth stares at his feet. _Knowingly impeding the advancement of scholarly research by omitting everything to do with Spinewing… I hope I’m doing the right thing._

Anduin raises his blond eyebrows while flipping through the blank pages. “I’m…sure you have a good reason. I won’t pressure you. As long as the information isn’t detrimental.” He sighs and closes the book with a _paff!_ before setting it aside. “I’ll have the archivists make copies once you’ve finished. You can be credited if you wish.”

Taveth blushes lightly. “Heh. Well, all the greats are credited. Not that I’m anywhere near that level, I’m just a simple scholar, but I wouldn’t _mind_ my name on the— Unless that’s inappropriate, of course. Heh.”

Anduin cannot help smiling at the man’s nervous demeanor and stacks the other tomes neatly atop the first. “Then be credited you shall. Your name right on the jacket. What do you think, gold ink?”

Taveth laughs nervously. “Maybe something pale and easily lost in the background.” He pauses, realizing how the request may sound. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be gaudy. Whatever your majesty feels is appropriate.” A growl outside the door reaches Taveth’s long, twitching ear. “Genn is growing restless. I’m truly sorry for taking up so much of your precious time.”

Anduin purses his lips at the door, then rolls his cerulean his eyes. “He’s a grumpy old dog,” he whispers on a laugh, “but I love him all the same.” He rests a casual arm across Taveth’s shoulders and steers him toward the door. “It was nice seeing you again, friend.”

Taveth gives a relaxed, crooked grin. “It is always good to see you, Anduin. A shame you’re so busy, but, such is life as king, hmm?”

Anduin hesitates with his fingers on the doorknob. “I’ll let you know as soon as I feel like one.” He gives a wary smile and opens the door to usher the elf through. “I trust you know your way back. Or shall we escort you?”

Taveth bows to the boy. “I’ve the utmost faith in you, my king. You’ll bring honor to the Wrynn name—more honor, of course. Heh.” He turns and bends slightly at the waist. “Greymane.” He backs away as though turning his back might set the worgen on his trail.

“Nightheart,” Genn grunts and watches him go. “Worm of a man, that one,” he says when Taveth is out of earshot.

Anduin chuckles and elbows the worgen. “A _bookworm_, perhaps?”

Genn smirks and follows the young king back to the throne room. “It is a gift to the world that you are king and not a comedian.”


	19. Chapter 19

Anarchaia sighs as she makes her way up the stairs to the fourth floor. It had taken her a while to pry herself away from the enjoyment of restoring her home with the man she loves, but now she knows she has to return to the reality of what happened. She steels herself and cringes before knocking tentatively on Kel’ori’s door.

The door creaks open just an inch and a bright, blue eye appears. It widens, then the door opens to a room literally crawling with fabric—dresses mending and sewing themselves, floating idly around the room and bumping each other. Kel’ori smiles, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re back! Just in time, too. I need you.” She pulls Anarchaia into the room and immediately begins trying to undress her.

Anarchaia _eep!_s, then blinks at the beautiful flowing silks and linens. Her eyes widen and she goes rigid with panic, then grabs Kel’ori’s wrists before she can successfully remove anything. “U-Uhm! Heh. I’m happy to help…with my clothes on.”

Kel’ori pauses and stares at her incredulously. “But I need to put clothes _on_ you. I can’t do that when you’re dressed.” She waves her hand and the blue robes and mask, fully died and hemmed, fly to her. She presses them to Anarchaia’s chest. “Please? I need to take it in, but I can’t take it in if you’re not wearing them. Please. I can, um, turn my back? If you’re really that modest?” She turns around and chews on her lower lip. “Oh! Inside out, please. For pinning. Did you need anything to go underneath? Matching trousers, like you usually have? Gloves? Shirt? _Boots!_ Oh, my, your black ones won’t do at all. I need to find—” She spins to go to her closet, then stops and turns back around. “Oh! Sorry. You’re changing. I forgot.” She spins back around, her eyes wide. “Silly me! Over there.” She extends a hand and a wooden room separator with parchment panels unfolds from the wall by the corner of her room. “You go there, and I’ll find boots!”

Anarchaia pauses, waiting for the elf to stop speaking while at the same time fidgeting apprehensively. When given the opportunity to speak, she’s again cut off by more blathering. She sighs and goes to the partition. “I, uh…just wear whatever’s available underneath.” She begins to unbutton her collar and gloves, then tosses them over the railing attached to the folding wall. “The collar and shirt are just convenient for my gloves. Heh.” It takes her a long moment before she’s able to actually untie the laces on her shirt and it, too, joins the rest. “I…don’t wear undergarments,” she finally mumbles.

Kel’ori barely pays attention, shrugging for no one. “I don’t care what you wear under your clothes. That’s your business. And Koltira’s, right?” She laughs into her fingertips. “I don’t know if my shoes will fit you…”

The undead girl flushes and purses her lips before pulling off her mask and readjusting her hair. “I wear a size eight and a half.” She bends to slip off her boots then unlaces her trousers; she steps out of them. She sets to work turning the pieces she’d been given inside out before slipping them on. “I, uh…am ready?” She steps out from behind the partition.

Kel’ori hums in thought and picks up a pair of brown leather boots. “We’ll try these ones.” She turns and laughs a little. “That is…a tent on you. You poor thing!” Pins fly from a nearby cushion and wait, pointed at the undead mage. “Step up on this stool, please.” She sets a stool in front of Anarchaia and barely waits for the woman to climb on before she begins pinching and pulling and pinning the fabric, holding it in place with her fingertips as the pins slip in. The rest of the floating creations pause as though holding their breath at each pin that goes in, daring not to move, lest Kel’ori prick the other mage. “The mask seems a right fit. How do you like it? Too tight? Too loose? Bunching anywhere? I honestly had no idea where to even start, so I just made it up as I went.”

Anarchaia stiffens and furrows her brow, suddenly feeling as though she’s the center of attention despite being one of only two people in the room. She lifts her arms when prompted and eyes each pin as it nears. She swallows. _This must be what she’s been filling her time with. Poor Kel’ori…_ “I-it’s a bit loose around the neck, but that’s not a big deal… heh. You did a good job.”

Kel’ori waves off the compliment. “No, no. I’ll fix it.” She adjusts and makes note of the neck size, this time with fabric chalk. “Don’t want to stick pins too close to your neck!” She giggles and flicks the collar up as best she can beneath the hood, furrowing her brow. “I’ll need to sew new interfacing into the collar. It’s supposed to be sort of up like that. Strange with the hood, but it looks great once all done up.” She gauges the shirt, which settles around the stool top. “Do you mind if it’s an inch longer than I _should_ be? I mean, heels would completely negate the inch of extra fabric so it doesn’t drag on the ground. Try these on!” She shoves the boots at Anarchaia, then turns away to search for something else.

Anarchaia again blinks. “Heels…?” She lowers to sit on the stool and slide off the other boots before pulling on the new ones. She stands again and takes a moment to stabilize herself. “I haven’t worn anything this nice since…heh. I don’t even remember.” She turns to look at herself in the mirror while Kel’ori is busy. “No one will mistake me for a man anymore.”

“Mm-hmm! You should really consider a push-up brassiere. Just because you don’t have much doesn’t mean you can’t flaunt it, right?” She smiles nervously as the thought occurs to her that maybe it was a step too far in the other mage’s personal business. “Do you mind if I…” She holds up a small roll, then pulls out one end, revealing a measuring tape. “I…had some ideas and I’m sure you don’t want to play doll every time. If that’s okay, of course? Can I make you clothes? Just…for practice? Docra says I practice too much, but, one can never _really_ practice too much, can they? It makes perfect!”

Anarchaia studies the woman for a moment and cannot stop the scenes from two weeks prior playing through her mind. Her face softens and she steps back onto the stool—not without wobbling—and nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.” She chuckles. “And I think I’m beyond the help of some magical brassiere. That and I’m told they leave one sore. Heh.”

Kel’ori laughs as her tape follows the flick of her finger and a quill takes notes on parchment. “Whoever told you that doesn’t know how to pick out a proper one. I’ve a few that do hurt, but, mostly I just can’t live without one. I feel…naked without it.” She laughs and ushers the woman down. “Then again I’ve got these things.” She motions at her chest and reads over her measurements. “You can change now. Thank you.”

Anarchaia gives an inward sigh, relieved she wasn’t put on the spot about removing her mask, and returns to the partition. She slips out of the robes, boots, and mask and gets to work redressing. “S-so…how are you? I-I mean. How’ve you been?”

Kel’ori pauses and frowns. She takes several deep breaths and chases the tears from her eyes. “Do you like coffee? I just had a shipment of beans delivered from Booty Bay. It’s my favorite kind, but I hadn’t had it in ages until that charming goblin made some for me. Gildwynn. Yes. He’s so sweet.” She doesn’t wait for an answer in the affirmative and begins brewing coffee with freshly ground beans. “I’ve got little cakes, too, if you’ve a sweet tooth?”

Anarchaia clenches her eyes shut and cringes through every word of the woman’s response. She takes a moment behind the partition to rub a palm over her mouth. She throws her mask back on and steps out and over to her. With a gentle hand on Kel’ori’s shoulder, she smiles. “Yeah, I do. That’s kind.” She chuckles. “No thank you on the cakes. Have you seen more of Gil since?” She takes a seat on the plush loveseat near the vanity and sets a knee over the other.

Kel’ori smiles charmingly as she brings her silver tea set over and pours a cup for each of them, the coffee pot trembling even though she’s using magic. “No. I…I want to, but… I really have so much to do _here_…in my room… I haven’t actually left in a few days. What is today?” She eyes the calendar. “Oh. It’s been…nearly two weeks. And I’m still not done. I’ll need to talk to Kalec again. Can’t go to A-Argus…if I’m so busy. Right?”

Anarchaia sobers as she lifts her mask to bring the cup to her lips. The steam dissipates as it cools before she drinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” She smiles. “I have to go back, however. Or, rather Kolt does. I’ll…send you a postcard. Heh.”

Kel’ori sets her cup down and takes a large bite of little cake. “I don’t want one. Thank you, though.” As she pops the other half into her mouth, her eyes widen. “He’ll say no again. I have to go back. You— _You!_ I got a C on my last assignment because of you going home. I can’t get more grades like that, Ana. I _can’t_. He’s docking points for your work not being turned in.” She drops her forehead to the heels of her palms and shakes her head. “I…have to go back…”

Anarchaia’s shoulders raise at the news and her eyes widen as well. “_D-docking?_ Surely he can’t… That’s not fair. I wasn’t told our grades were contingent on one another’s.” She pauses, then scowls, sets her cup down, and stands. “I’ll speak with him. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll speak with my master since they appear to be partners in crime on this.”

Kel’ori stands, all activity in the room coming to a halt. “You will? You’ll— I won’t have to go back?” She grabs Anarchaia in a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Anarchaia stiffens uncomfortably. “I…can’t promise anything but I’ll sure as hell try.” She pats Kel’ori on the back and offers a reassuring smile. “Thank you for the beautiful robes. I’ll let you know what they say. Stay well, okay?”

Kel’ori smiles genuinely for the first time in weeks. “You’re a great friend. You know that?” She gestures at the robes on the divider. “When those are done I’ll take you to Docra for that enchant. Oh! I nearly forgot!” Anarchaia’s hamper and folded robes float in from the closet. “I fixed your robes and did your laundry. It’s all folded and everything.” She motions inside the hamper. “I may have tidied your room. Your walls would make Tav piss himself.”

“O-oh! Thank you so much. You didn’t have to…” Color fills the undead girl’s face at the thought of someone infiltrating her room. She pulls her newly mended robes over her head then sets the hamper on a bony hip with a nervous chuckle. “You…didn’t see anything, did you? Heh.”

“Nothing embarrassing.” She shakes her head. “Though, word to the wise, when you stuff sexy lingerie into a grand piano, you run the risk of fraying the sheer. And, I imagine, throwing the piano out of tune.” She escorts the woman to the door and winks as she opens it.

The corners of Anarchaia’s lips tighten and she pulls her mask over her face. She clears her throat and practically rushes into the hallway. “Th-thanks again, Kel. I’ll talk to you later.” After sending the hamper away in a flurry of sparkles, she makes her way to the upper levels where she knows Kalecgos’ room to be, all while dodging eye contact with her peers. Once there, she reaches a hand up to rap on the ornate wooden door with the golden studs over her knuckles.

It takes some time for the door to open and Kalecgos makes his way across the room. He smiles gently down at Anarchaia. “Good afternoon, Miss Starling. Welcome back to Dalaran. What brings you to my humble abode?”

Anarchaia straightens and rests her hands at the small of her back, suddenly very aware of how little interaction she’d ever had with the man before her. She smiles. “Good afternoon, Archmage. I was…wondering if I could have a word about your apprentice? On behalf of myself, that is…”

The question seems to leave the man completely unbothered. “Of course you may. Would you like to come in?”

She glances down the particularly secluded hallway before nodding and stepping inside. Her eyes immediately scan the foreign walls of tomes, fossils, artifacts, bottles, and samples. She turns and is startled by the massive skeletal head of a dimetrodon jutting from the wall above the door. She collects herself and clears her throat. “U-uhm. I was told that Kel’ori’s grades were dependent upon my own as of the present.”

His head dips in a slow nod. “I’m afraid so. The partnership is currently working in a singular manner, you getting her out into the world to learn practical magical applications. But it is a _partnership_. If she cannot help in some way to get your assignments turned in, then she is failing _you_ and the partnership.” He leans a hip against his large, heavy desk and hooks his thumbs into his belt. “But this bothers you.”

The girl resists the urge to fold her arms but keeps her hands behind her back and shifts her weight to a heel. “Yessir. I…have never been prompt at turning in my projects and notes, that is true, but I don’t think Kel’ori should be punished for that. Especially since the failures are my own. It isn’t fair.”

Kalecgos remains unmoved by the mage’s words. “I, respectfully, disagree. This is how a partnership works. You help her, she helps you. If one of you is at risk of failure, such as on an assignment, it is the other’s job to step up and prevent the fall.” He reaches back and pulls a rolled parchment from his desk. “While you were away, I received her assignment, which was…a far cry longer than I requested. She has always been decent, I suppose, in her studies. Not a grand scholar, but her reports are very passionate and persuasive. This one I wanted to grant her extra points. Khadgar informed me that you are months behind on your own work, and so I acted accordingly.” He holds out the scroll for her to take. “You really should read it.”

The scroll flows from Kalecgos’ hand and unfurls on its way to the girl in front of him. Anarchaia rests her fingers over her lips and curls the other arm around herself as she reads in a slouched form as though suddenly forgetting her company. Her eyes flick through the well-flowing words recanting the monumental achievements of even the least notable mages through history. “I-…I know I haven’t been doing my work,” she says while her eyes continue to scan the paragraphs and the scroll lifts accordingly. “But, with all due respect, I wasn’t told this was any sort of graded assignment. I’d have put forth more effort had I known someone else would pay for my mistakes…”

“Kel’ori is paying for her own failures in not getting _you_ to complete your assignments. That was half the bargain. She didn’t and now…she has incentive to do so. Either she persuades you to complete your work, or you complete it as a kindness to her.” His eyes scan over the mage, reading her posture and body language like one would a book.

Heat crawls into her cheeks as she comes to a passage about herself and the small accomplishments of her own. Her fingers shift from her mouth to a cheek at the words of admiration. Frustration then knots in her throat as she finishes the document and it furls up again. “This is…extremely well done. No matter how…_inaccurate_ that bit toward the end is.” She rubs her hands over her face and resists a sigh as the scroll returns to the Archmage. “Please, her work deserves more than an average grade. I kindly request that you disregard the score on anything she’s written up until this point and grade it accordingly as though she and I hadn’t been together. And I’ll finish my work and take the deductions as my own.”

Kalecgos sighs and returns the scroll carefully to the desk, placing it deliberately and delicately in place. “My own instinct leads me to decline your request, as you have given no indication in the past that you can be held to your word on this. It is an empty promise you present to me, Miss Starling. Though, your own master may feel differently. At present, my decision stands until you prove yourself capable of adhering to your word and your work, or if you can persuade Khadgar to convince me.” He sets his soothing smile on her as a final note to solidify his resolution.

Anarchaia inhales to interrupt him, then, remembering her place, holds her breath until he’s finished. She knits her brow at the gentle grin he gives her and exhales, faltering. She again resists the urge to fold her arms but does not straighten. “At the very least, don’t make her go back to Argus with me…” she says quietly, her respectful tone gone and replaced with one of pleading.

He cocks his head, slowly tilting it in thought. “I asked Kel’ori for a good argument to remove her from Argus. She gave me none. Do you have a good argument on her behalf? Or am I to believe you two simply aren’t getting along and wish to disobey direct orders rather than finding a way to work together?”

Anarchaia tightens her fists at the small of her back. “Would she have written what she did about me if we weren’t getting along?” she asks. _Maybe if I can best him in his logic while skirting around the actual answer, he’ll have no choice but to agree._

He smiles, stoic and agreeable. “So you see my point? I cannot pardon my student for no reason. Would you expect Khadgar to do such a thing?”

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes beneath her mask but her voice remains bright and respectful. “N-…No. However, if I were to request not going to a place I don’t feel comfortable going, he’d surely show me some grace…”

“Then surely you can give me a better reason than _it’s dirty and I don’t like getting messy_, as she gave me. A mess is not a good argument. Messes are meant to be cleaned up, not ignored. Wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes flicker with a sort of enjoyment, though he remains physically apathetic to the situation at hand.

“Yes,” she admits. “And perhaps she was sparing you the more…uncouth details,” she continues, pausing every so often to gather the correct words as her debate skills are tested. “The things we’ve seen, sir. I…am weathered when it comes to the matter of combat and killing, but Kel’ori…” She finally sighs. “It’s not her terrain.”

Kalecgos grins and folds his arms casually, leaning back as he observes this new sort of pupil who argues back instead of acquiescing to his every word. “Tell me, Miss Starling, when you teach a bird to fly, do you tell it about flying, or do you help to spread its wings and simply let it figure out how to fly on its own?”

Anarchaia takes note of his change in posture and straightens some, her brow knit. “As I am Master’s apprentice you know I appreciate your making a pun of my name, but frankly I find the maturation habits of birds to be very uncivilized and…wild, as it were. The analogy is understood but it is a false one. We are not birds. We have understanding of compassion and reason.”

Amusement tugs at the corner of Kalecgos’ lips. “Right you are, young one. So tell me, so I may have compassion for my rather unworldly apprentice, for what _reason_ should I hold her back from learning how to care for herself in that cruel world you’re so versed in? Did you go out of your own volition? Or were you persuaded? Were you granted a companion to help you learn how to defend yourself?” His eye sparkles, knowing she must understand his meaning, for her adventures with the demon hunter are no secret.

She parts her lips to speak but pauses, seeing the correlation between Kel’ori’s situation now and the one she’d been assigned months ago. The urge to just shout the truth plays at her tongue but she chews on her lip instead. “That…is true,” she says the words through a thick air of defeat, then finally brings her arms around to fold over her chest. “I showed no resistance to my orders, however. And had I, Master would have obliged. In fact he’d forbade me to accompany him to Argus specifically. It begs the question why you wouldn’t do the same.”

He studies her posture, her arms folded over her chest—a sign that she’s closed herself off from being persuaded. He maintains his smile, anyway. “Perhaps I saw that a more-than-capable mage was already lending aid, while in a well-prepared group, and I decided the safest way to get her into the world was in the hands of Khadgar’s apprentice herself. Or was I misinformed of the deeds you and your group have accomplished? Are you not a safe and powerful party, which would keep my Kel—my apprentice safe from harm?” He gives no indication that his minor slip bothers him in the least.

The smaller mage catches the slip, however and pauses. _So it is true._ A small smile plays at her lips and she tilts her head and relaxes her shoulders some. “Naturally those with a student-mentor bond as strong as yours care deeply for one another. I imagine you consider yourselves good friends—perhaps even _best_ friends, yes? Closer, even? Surely you wouldn’t want her to get hurt…”

Outwardly unbothered, Kalecgos straightens some, pushing away from the desk. “This is thrilling; you running me in circles. Really. I had hoped you would come up with a good argument instead of deflecting and now presenting accusations which would result in the expulsion of one apprentice if found true—which they are not—or the expulsion of you, for dishonorable conduct. Is it your wish to see either of you bright mages removed from the Hall and denied Archmageship? Choose your words wisely, young mage.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen slightly and she stiffens once again. She hesitates. “I-I merely said you were close. I implied nothing.” _Though with all this protesting…_ “Surely that isn’t cause for alarm, Archmage. Every teacher here is close with their students, both new and old. Almost like family. Would you see your family to the battlefields of a foreign planet?”

“If you think you’re not capable enough to teach another pupil the ways of battle and self-defense, then I’ll reassign Kel’ori to someone more up for the task, magically.” A parchment raises behind him and a quill scribbles a quick message. He reads it over, then it rolls up and disappears. “I’ve sent word to Archmage Khadgar of your lack of qualifications. I’m sure he can come up with a fitting solution.” His door opens as he turns back to a skeleton being carefully excavated from stone. “You may see yourself out. Be well, Miss Starling.”

Anarchaia visibly flinches as the parchment disappears. She fumbles over words in her mouth but finds her tongue can’t muster any of them. Unable to contain a grunt of frustrated annoyance, she clenches her fists and exits, robes swirling. “You as well, Archmage,” she hisses as the door closes. “What an insufferable man,” she grumbles as she trudges down the hall and up the staircase. “I’d have rather dealt with Meryl. At least _he_ doesn’t see red when he’s emotional.” Her boots find their way to Khadgar’s door and she stops. The muscles in her arm tense as she lifts it to knock, screaming at her not to do so. Her teacher’s face, flushed with anger, fills her mind and she frowns. She inhales, preparing herself, but before her knuckles meet he wood, the door swings open and an unseen force pulls her inside by the front of her robes. Her boots stumble as the door closes gently behind her.


	20. Chapter 20

Khadgar stares daggers in Anarchaia’s direction, a cheek on his knuckles and the fingers of the other hand drumming against the desk as though he’s been waiting for her. His tomes and parchments float idly behind him as though an audience for her chastising. “What in gods’ names has gotten into you,” he asks, quiet and calm, as though to himself.

“I-if you’d just let me explain—”

“First you disobey a direct order from me, then you take an unauthorized vacation, and now you’re shamelessly disrespecting your superiors.”

“Master, I hadn’t meant any offense. I was simply trying to—”

“I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” he states in his cool demeanor, blue eyes shimmering with a rage contained just below the surface. “You don’t do your work, you disappear for days—and now _weeks_, you disobey orders, and now this. What else can I expect from you?”

“I’ll do better,” she whispers, visibly afraid. “I promise. I-…I know I haven’t been the ideal student—”

“You’ve been the _worst_ student. It’s a wonder I haven’t expelled you, do you know that? The amount of ingratitude and disrespect you’ve displayed in just these last six months alone are second to none in this building. I’m tired, Ana. I honestly am.”

Anarchaia swallows and hesitates, afraid to say anything else lest he again interject. She musters the courage to, anyway. “I’m sorry.”

The simmering anger in his eyes ebbs away some and he leans back in his chair. His texts and papers stack atop each other neatly before him and he stands. “But,” he continues, making his way around to the front of his desk and leaning against it with arms folded, “knowing you, I’m sure there’s a reason for why you felt the need to become argumentative with one of the Council.”

She fidgets. “I…was hoping he’d give Kel’ori a passing grade on her homework up until this point. I-I didn’t know that she’d been docked points because of me. I just wanted it to be fair…”

Khadgar’s face softens and he sighs quietly. “The way you went about it was unnecessary.”

“I understand.”

“I’m not sure what the lot of you have endured up there that would make you so hard set on seeing that Miss Nightheart stay here, but if it’s not important enough to speak of, then perhaps you should just allow Kalec to handle his student as he sees fit.”

“I…” She bites her lip, wanting so dearly to tell him the truth, but also knowing how he’ll react. “I just don’t think it’s safe for her there.” She pauses. “Wait, he didn’t tell you that he was reassigning her?”

“No, he did. Claimed you were…” He picks up the parchment and scans the brief amount of words. “Unfit? Honestly I’d thought you were better than this….”

The words cause her heart to ache and she furrows her brow upward, the fingers of her gloves practically tangling with one another. “I-’it’s not about that…”

“He says he’s going to assign her to a first-year student with less experience than you but more than Kel’ori herself. They’ll be departing for Argus in the morning,” he continues, no longer even reading from the paper and instead looking at her from behind its edge.

Anarchaia gives a groan and pulls on her hood. “No,” she whines, “no, don’t do that.” She sighs and lets her arms drop to dangle at her sides, defeated. “Please— Just— Ugh. Please let Archmage Kalec know that she’ll be accompanying _us_ tomorrow, instead.”

“Perhaps you yourself should let him know. And apologize for the insolence you displayed.”

“I didn’t even say anything bad!”

Khadgar resists a chuckle and keeps his stoic demeanor. “A million words are said in the inflection of one, Ana. Now go.”

Anarchaia huffs and turns for the door, then flinches at his next words.

“Without the mask. Show him your sincerity. None of your _scowl with your face, smile with your words_ nonsense.”

“Yessir,” she grumbles and steps out into the hallway. “Why did I even come back here?” she mutters beneath her breath, ignoring the curious expressions of passersby. “I try to do one—no _two_ nice things for someone—_at the expense of myself_, even!—and this is what I deal with in return.” Her ramblings continue all the way back to the familiar carved door on the floor just below the one she’d come from. She knocks after a long minute of hesitation.

The door swings open to reveal the sound of gentle scratching of metal on stone. “You waited out there long enough,” he says. Kalecgos doesn’t pull his eyes from his work, though a new scroll from Khadgar rests beside the stone prison keeping in the bones. “Did you have something to say to me?”

His words spur a spark of anger within her, but she swallows it and steps inside. “I—” She inhales, then remembers Khadgar’s words and purses her lips. With hesitant fingers she pulls her mask from her head, then pushes her thick white tresses back and out of her face. She frowns and avoids looking up at him. “I apologize. What I’d said and the way I acted was inappropriate. I hope you can find it within you to forgive me.”

Kalecgos turns his head to carefully scrutinize her for such a long time the mage grows uncomfortable. He sets his tools down and stands, wiping his dusty hands on a towel. “I don’t. Forgiveness is for _real_ mistakes. All you did was refuse to take no for an answer. If I say no again, will you agree to respect my decision?”

Anarchaia squirms inside as she feels his eyes on her for longer than she’d anticipated. She then blinks at his words before relaxing some and nods. “Yes. I…” She sighs. “Kel’ori will be coming with us in the morning. And I’ll turn in all of my past work within the week if that allotment of time is acceptable.”

He raises a slow shoulder. “Your timing is Khadgar’s matter, not mine.” He lifts Kel’ori’s lengthy essay from his desk and holds it out for the mage. “Return this to my apprentice and inform her that she stays with your party on Argus.” He pauses and smirks. “I feel obligated to say that if any harm befalls her, you, of course, will be held accountable.” A sly smile curls on his lips. “Though, who needs cliché half-threats, anyway?”

_No one when in the position you are._ The corners of her lips twitch as she resists scowling and she gingerly takes the parchment. “I understand. Thank you.” The thought of Kel’ori’s face when she tells her the news suddenly fills her head and she furrows her brow with sadness in her heart. “I’ll…return it to her right now.” She turns for the door, mask held tightly in a fist. “Thank you again, Archmage.”

“No, Miss Starling, thank you. Be well.” The door opens once more behind her and he smiles his patient, charming smile.

Anarchaia stops as the door closes behind her, then leans against the far wall to push her hands into her face. She sighs, holding back tears of frustration, throws her mask back on, then collects herself and returns to Kel’ori’s room a few floors down. With a heavy hand she knocks and waits.

Kel’ori opens the door with a forced smile, her eyes tired and troubled. “Sorry. Come in. I, um…” She looks around the room at the projects that had fallen to the floor from where they’d been hovering. “What’s that?” She motions at the paper. “Is that mine?”

“Oh, uh…” Anarchaia bites her lip. “Yeah. Archmage Kalec said it was very good and definitely passing work.” She frowns. “If it weren’t for me…” She looks between the floor covered in bolts of fabric and the woman before her and realizes she can’t say the rest of what she’d intended to. “I’ll do my work, though…”

Kel’ori rips the parchment from the mage’s hand, her lips pressed into a thin line. She stares at the unrolled page for a long time, tears coming to her eyes. “What did you say to him?”

“I-I…” Anarchaia swallows. “He…said no. I’m sorry, Kel. I really tried. I-I almost got expelled trying, in fact.” She gives a nervous titter that leads into a cringe. “I’m so sorry…”

Kel’ori stares incredulously at her. “But…” She hands over the paper. On it is scrawled a neat note beneath an A+. _It goes back down if Miss Starling doesn’t keep her word._

Anarchaia’s eyes widen slightly and she’s filled with relief that she was bought a few more minutes before giving the truly terrible news. “Oh. Heh.” Her face softens. “I guess he’s not such a bad guy…heh.”

Kel’ori grabs Anarchaia in a hug. “Of course he’s not! He’s the best. He really is.”

“I-I wouldn’t say that just yet…” Anarchaia pats her on the back.

The elf frowns. “Why? Is there more?”

“I…couldn’t convince him to let you remain here.” She frowns. “I’m sorry.”

Kel’ori frowns and turns away. “Oh.” She spins back around and waves for an item to unbury itself. “I finished this. Would you like to try it on again? Or maybe we can go get it enchanted, like you said?” She sets the folded article in the woman’s hands.

Anarchaia thinks for a long moment. “Kel’ori, I know it isn’t pleasant, but…We have to deal with this. We leave in the morning.”

“But. The robes. You looked so pretty in them. Did you change your mind?” Her eyes go wide.

Anarchaia furrows her brow upward, intent on getting her message through. “Kel, if you don’t come with us, you’ll fail.”

Kel’ori nods. “Mm-hmm. Okay. So, no time to lose. Got it. We should hurry.” Everything in the room folds neatly, the needles stab into the fabric for safe keeping. She grabs Anarchaia by the elbow and teleports them to a small, grey house shoved awkwardly between two buildings, which were built up over the top as though to spite the little single-story hut hiding in the dark alleyway. “Her house is… Well, it’s Docra. She was so adamant about not moving I guess the builders finally just gave up. She tells it better. Come on!” The mage goes to the door and rings a little black bell. A black cat curls it’s way out a pet door and mrows up at them. “Hello, Ivory.” She stoops and scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Oh, pleasant,” a monotone voice says from the doorway, “unannounced visitors.” She casts her bored expression on Anarchaia. Then on Kel’ori. “And you brought a friend.” She sighs dramatically and turns, disappearing into the dark house, the door left open as the only sign of them being welcome inside.

“She…doesn’t appear to want us here,” Anarchaia murmurs while fidgeting with the robes in her hands. “Perhaps we should come back.”

Kel’ori snorts. “She wants us here, trust me. She works from home.” She pulls the woman into the house and closes the door. “Besides, I’m her friend.”

“Correction,” her voice drones from the black of the room, “I am your friend. I never said you were mine.” A match strikes and explodes a small bit of light to cast her face in eerie shadow from above. “What do you want? I just woke up.”

Kel’ori turns to hiss, “She sleeps during the day.” The mage smiles at the woman drifting around the room as though floating over the floor, lighting black and indigo wax candles.

Docra motions at her black furniture for the two to sit. She sweeps past a wall where a long pipe has been set up at the ceiling and below it are a series of shorter pipes of various sizes and types pointing outward from the wall. Water drips from the one at the top onto the others to play an earie tune without any sort of melody to it. “What’s the enchantment?”

Anarchaia sits and resists a shudder. “U-uhm…fire dampening.” Her eyes scan the room around her and eventually settles on the titles on the bookshelf on the far wall.“Kel’ori says you’re really skilled. Heh.”

Docra pulls a box from a series of shelves and sets it on the coffee table. “Kel’ori likes to flatter. Which is pointless. I know the spell and I’ve never had a dissatisfied client. Anything past that is useless chatter.”

Kel’ori giggles and waves a hand. “You’re far to humble.”

The woman stares at Kel’ori until the mage squirms. “Want to hear a joke?”

“Is this like…all your others?” Her expression tentatively sours.

“No. Knock, knock.”

“Oh, gods… Who’s there?”

“Reality. Why are you hiding from me?”

Kel’ori blinks and stares across at the other mage for help.

“Eh…” Anarchaia gives a nervous titter. She holds up the robes she’d been given. “How much? Typically, I mean…heh.”

Docra holds up a finger to Anarchaia. “How much coffee have you had?”

Kel’ori cringes. “Today? Or…”

The woman hums. She stands and pours a small cup of dark liquid. “Drink.”

The blue-eyed elf cringes. “What is it?”

“Not coffee.” She presses it to Kel’ori’s lips until the woman open her mouth to drink it. “You might want to lie down.” She returns the cup to the counter, then sits beside Anarchaia. “It’s a rare enchantment. There is no typical price.”

Across from them, Kel’ori falls sideways on the couch, her hair over her face.

“Told you to lie down.”

Anarchaia jumps as the other mage’s head hits the cushioned armrest at the far end. She turns back to Docra with a chuckle. “A sleeping potion in a tea? Heh.” She hands over the robes. “I’ll pay whatever you see fit. And it’s a good thing you knocked her out. I didn’t want her to end up paying.”

Docra eyes the robes and the mages. “I like to sleep deeply. She needs it. There’s…a hole in her soul. A darkness. It’s beautiful, but I think she doesn’t love it like I do.” Her fingers twitch and weave over the dress as she swirls dust along it in sigils. Her eyes stay on the blond mage the whole time. “Nightmares. Lucky for her I gave her the dream inhibitor.” Finally her bored expression settles on Anarchaia. “How did you meet Kel’ori?”

Anarchaia nods at the woman’s musings but does not confirm nor deny them. She perks at the question. “Oh. We’ve been students together for a bit, now, but haven’t really talked until recently. How do _you_ know her?”

“She got lost and followed my cat here. She just never stopped coming back.” Docra’s eyes dim as she moves to the nonsense tune on the pipes. “A demon’s heart.”

The mage’s brow knits and her eyes widen slightly. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“I want the heart of a great demon from Argus. Intact. Preserved in a jar.” Her green eyes settle on the mage again. “It’s for my collection.”

Anarchaia inwardly sighs. “I…can see what I can do. We’ll be going there tomorrow, as it happens.” She watches the priest’s hands move across the fabric and grazes at the inside of her lip with the tips of her teeth. “How—uhm…how many enchantments do you know?”

Docra blinks. “All of them. A craftsman is useless without full knowledge.”

The undead girl picks at her fingers and pulls her eyes elsewhere. “So…you know fertility enchantments, then?”

“There’s one for every race. I can weave it into your robes right now, if you want. Price will go up, though. And there’s a potency sigil, but that’s another payment on top of the original charm.” She pauses in her enchanting. “What race do you need?”

Anarchaia cringes beneath her mask and turns her head even farther away. “…undead,” she says quietly, afraid to hear the reply but also excited for an answer.

Unfazed, the priest adjusts the robes to continue. “Undead isn’t a race. It’s a state of being.” She sets the quickest of a hand on Anarchaia’s thigh. “Your darkness is beautiful.” She returns to the work in her lap as though the contact hadn’t occurred.

The mage flushes at the touch and words and turns back slightly. “But I’m not Forsaken. Do they count as a race? If so, is there one for them? If not, is there one at all?”

“There is no fertility spell for Forsaken, or death knights. A new loo won’t fix broken pipes.” She stares off at the droplets falling from near the ceiling. “I’m nearly done making one for demon hunters, though. Just have to find someone to test it on. If you know any.”

Anarchaia sighs and visibly deflates. “Yeah,” she drones. “I do. Though I don’t think he’s up for experiments that involve children.” She purses her lips. _Especially after that…_

“Shame,” she says, as though fading into a dream state. She blinks and stares at the woman. “Necromancy. There’s a book. Rare. Only one exists because all other copies were burned after it was deemed too dangerous.” Her eyes drift over the bookshelf to a short, thick tome. “I accepted it as payment for an enchantment much rarer than yours.” She eyes the mage as though she’d commented on the weather. “By the way, your enchantment is leaking.” She runs a fingertip along the seams Kel’ori had mended. “Unless you can control yourself, I suggest not wearing those. It can become unpredictable.”

She furrows her brow. “As in…how to _perform_ necromancy?” Her eyes glitter with excitement as they also fall upon the unfamiliar tome. She then jerks and chuckles at the touch before collecting herself and clearing her throat. “Oh. Heh. Uh. Perhaps I can wear the ones you’ve got there, and you can fix these ones? Heh. I’ll pay for both, naturally.”

If possible, Docra would have given the mage a blander look. “No. Not performing it. At least not in a sense most are familiar with. I don’t perform necromancy, so I haven’t read through all the spells.” She eyes the robes on the mage. “Two hearts; labeled. One from an eredari, the other from a felguard or one of those other big ones.” She runs dust along the lower seam of the blue robes, then the cuffs and the neck. She folds it back up and whispers a quick word, then snaps her fingers. The dust glows bright red, then disappears. “It won’t wash off.” She hands the robes to Anarchaia.

“Oh. Heh. Thanks.” Anarchaia stands and pulls off the robes she’s wearing to replace them with the new ones. She holds out the former. “I think we can handle that. We _do_ have a demon hunter in our party.” She pauses, still eyeing the tome on the shelf. “Could…I give you something as collateral if I were to…borrow…it?”

“Do you have an item of infinite value that you’d die if you lost?” Docra sweeps to an ornate sink with a clear, deep bowl-basin, and begins filling it. She splashes some powder in and swirls it with her fingertips, then tosses the red robes into the mixture.

Anarchaia instinctively rests a hand over her stomach and for a moment actually considers handing over the chronomatic shard in return for knowledge of how to conceive, then sighs and lets her hand fall to the side again. “No…”

Docra nods as she swirls the robes around; the water slowly begins to glow red. “You may read it here, then. Not during the day, though that seems a nonissue with your current state.” She dries her hand and leaves the robes to soak.

“My current state…?” the mage mumbles as she plucks the book from its spot on the shelf and cracks it open. Her eyes scan the pages fervently in what little time she feels she has before her welcome is worn. “Oh. You mean…Heh. I suppose I wasn’t too inconspicuous about it.”

Docra blinks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it wasn’t common knowledge.” She stares a little longer. “You don’t have to do it all at once. Unless you don’t like my house.”

“It’s more that I feel as though _you_ don’t like _me_ in your house.” She flips to the chapter most relevant to her interest, then frowns at the vague wording and text laden with superstition. She sighs and presses through the paragraphs regardless, intent on finding something useful. “Maybe I could just try with a charm meant for humans…”

The priest sits beside Kel’ori and adjusts her to a more comfortable position. “Doesn’t hurt to double down. Or triple. Or just do literally everything, if you’re that desperate.” She stands and stares down at the book from over the mage’s shoulder. “I don’t care one way or the other if you’re in my house. Just don’t steal anything or disrespect my cat.”

Anarchaia looks over her shoulder and chuckles. “I like cats.” She closes the book and pushes it back into its spot, then frowns. She opens a palm and a lacy black slip appears, flowing over the sides and through her fingers. “I’ll be honest. I _am_ that desperate. What do I have to give you to thrice enchant this? And swear not to tell anyone?”

Docra stares at the article and blinks. “Your first-born child.”

Anarchaia purses her lips and pulls the article back to her as though it were her last remaining possession, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “Something else…?”

Docra gingerly takes the slip and urges it from the mage’s hands. “It was a joke. I tell jokes sometimes.”

Anarchaia releases her grasp but holds her posture and narrows her eyes. “Ha ha,” she drones. “But seriously…”

“What is a child worth to you? If it works, you give me something of equal value. If it doesn’t, I’ll accept a lesser payment. Only because you’re a peculiar case. I’ve never had an undead individual asking me about fertility.” She slips the silky negligee onto a hanger, then onto a bar beside other articles waiting for enchantment.

The mage relaxes some. Color fills her cheeks at the nonchalant manner of speaking about such a personal subject. “That’s…very kind of you, actually. Most Forsaken are cold and vengeful, but I’m not one of them. I just want a normal life…” She frowns. “I really appreciate your help. I’ll find something of value to trade.” She looks over Kel’ori’s sleeping figure as possible methods of payment flick through her head. “Though a child, to me would be priceless.”

Docra blinks slowly, then raises a single shoulder in a shrug. “There has to be something of infinite value in your life. It’s been my experience that everyone has their prize. Though, it doesn’t matter in the end. We all die and our possessions no longer belong to us, and eventually they become dust, just as we do.” She runs her fingers along the spines of her books, then plucks one out and begins to idly read from somewhere in the middle.

“My only possession of any—literally—infinite value is inside of me. I can perhaps promise it to you in the event of my death, but I’m not so sure it’s mine to give away.” She goes to the woman on the couch. “How long will she be out? I imagine I’ll be bringing her back.”

The priest shrugs again. “Rarities will do. Something close to the tome you’re so interested in. Or I accept meal vouchers. I’d received a year’s meals at the inn, but it’s expiring. Feed me for a year. If you get a child, you feed me for three. I’ll allow you to choose.” She goes to the mage and runs her fingers through the blonde hair. “Eight hours. She’s welcome to stay here, if you want to leave.”

Anarchaia hesitates, almost feeling guilty. “I feel badly just kind of _dumping_ her on you…but I have a couple months’ work to catch up on.”

“Help me get her into my bed. It’ll be fine.” She pulls the other elf forward. “Your fertility enchant will take a few days to weave, so you know. Your red robes need to soak at least a day, then be cleansed again before I can try to enchant something on them.”

The undead girl nods and lifts a hand to pull Kel’ori into the air. “I can return in a week or so, if that’s acceptable to you. We’ve got some business back on Argus.” _Ugh. So much on my plate right now…_ She glances about for any indication of a bedroom. “Uhm…where…?”

“I hide it from clients.” She pinches what looks to be a length of wall beside the bookshelf; it shimmers at her touch and she raises a sheer, black veil to reveal a doorway. Beyond that is a doorway on the left, which leads to a restroom with black furnishings and a grey stone floor. But Docra leads the mage straight into a bedroom with walls a blue so dark only light tells that there is color. Her bed is a magnificent metal four-poster with black and sparkling blue sheer curtains bundled around the posts. Her bedding is the same two colors, with a plush comforter and silky sheets. She pulls back a corner of the black comforter and signals at the blue sheets below. “Right here is fine. I’ll come in every hour to make sure she doesn’t die.”

Anarchaia follows, eyes flowing over the decor and eyebrows lifted in interest. She sets the unconscious mage under the sheets and rests her head on a pillow. “Uhm…Pretty. I like your choice in color.” She chuckles. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you formally.” She extends a hand.

“I chose the colors of the Void.” She stares at the hand, then slowly takes it. “Want to hear another joke?”

A smile plays at the mage’s lips. “Sure.”

“_I’m sorry_ and _I apologize_ mean the same thing,” she pauses for effect, “unless you’re at a funeral.”

Anarchaia’s smile broadens and she laughs loudly. “That’s good. I like that. Heh.” She gives the priest a last, wide smile and nods. “Thank you again, Docra. Be well. I’ll see you in a week.”

“I’ll see you then, I guess. Unless you die.” She waits for a long beat. “That was another joke.”

Anarchaia gives a more apprehensive chuckle. “You’ll get an invite to my funeral. Heh.” She waves and disappears in a flurry of sparkles and light.

Docra blinks at the empty space. “I look forward to it.”


	21. Chapter 21

Grimory awakens in the darkness of Alisbeth’s room, time and place a momentary mystery to him. He sits up and glances at the clock, though he cannot see it in the dim light of the street lights outside. “What time is it?” he groans and throws his feet over the edge of the bed.

Alisbeth wraps herself around his back and hugs him. “It’s dark. That’s not a time, but it’s all I know.”

The demon hunter rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes and sets a hand on her arm. He sighs. “I won’t leave you again…but…I don’t think anyone is safe around me at this point.”

The death knight frowns and curls tighter around him as though to stop him if he should try to leave. “Then I guess you and I are staying here. Alone. Away from everyone.”

He groans again. “I…don’t think I can do that.”

Alisbeth frowns. “Away from everyone else…or just here with me?”

“I have to go back to Argus. Soon. They’re forcing me.” He rubs his palms over his face. “It’s also kind of my job…”

“Oh.” Alisbeth draws a finger along his tattoos. “Well, if you can’t not go back, but you don’t want to be around others, but there are people _everywhere_… You know no one hates you, right?

Grimory’s brow furrows. “Yes, they do, Ali. You heard what she said to me.” He frowns. “You’re not safe, either, you know…”

Alisbeth smiles softly and closes her eyes as she presses her cheek to his thigh. “Kel? She’s a bitch. Her opinion doesn’t count.” She sighs and reaches up to touch his horn. “What if I don’t care if I’m safe or not? I was safe once before, you know. Then I died. Maybe safe isn’t a good place to be?”

He reaches up to grab her hand and bring it down to press against his chest. “No. It is.” He sighs. “I…” He shakes his head and stands. “I need to go do something real quick. I promise I’ll come right back after, yeah?”

Alisbeth frowns, though turns to hide it in the dark. “As long as you return.”

He forces a smile and leans down to press a kiss to her cold forehead. “I will. I promise. If not, you can personally come find and kill me yourself, okay?”

“I don’t want to. But okay.”

Grimory chuckles and pushes her hair behind her ear. “See you when I get back.” His smile immediately falters when he turns away and leaves through the balcony doors. After closing them behind him, he sighs and leans against them for a moment before hopping down into the dark streets of Dalaran. The mage guards atop the stairs leading to the Violet Citadel regard him with familiar nod.

“Good evening,” the demon hunter greets, suddenly aware of his disheveled appearance in the presence of someone other than Alisbeth. “I’m looking for Ana. Is she here?”

The man seems to cast a glance at the other across the span of the top step. “Just left, we’re told. On personal leave.”

Grimory furrows his brow slightly. “To where? I need to speak with her.”

“Duskwood,” the man at Grimory’s left says casually and the second guard tilts his head.

“How in gods’ names would you know that?” the first guard says.

“I know things,” the second responds with a shrug.

The first mage sneers in the shadows of his helm. “Duskwood. I guess.”

Grimory closes his eyes to keep himself from rolling them. “Would you mind if I grabbed a teleport there? I’ll pay if that’s import—”

The first guard jumps as the demon hunter disappears in a swirl of light, then casts an incredulous look to his partner.

“He was annoying me,” the second man says and rubs a thumb at a spot on his staff.

“He barely spoke one paragraph!”

The man shrugs. “I like teleporting people.”

The first guard scowls and folds his arms. “Why they let apprentices onto guard duty is well beyond my range of understanding.”

Grimory stumbles as he appears, disoriented, in the middle of a gloomy dirt road. He purses his lips and looks about, then turns around to see a quaint but impressive two-story home with nothing much around it but trees and planted flowers and shrubbery. He takes a step forward to inspect the mailbox and finds a familiar surname painted on the side in elegant scripture. The corner of his lip raises at the implication of the mage guard knowing the exact address he’d wanted to go, but he offers it no further thought and steps up the short stone-lined path to the front door. He hesitates, second guessing himself, then lifts a fist to gently tap at the freshly polished wooden door with his knuckles.

Anarchaia perks, looking up from her work scrubbing clean a dirty, weathered vase with a soft bristled brush in the firelight of the new fireplace. She furrows her brow at Koltira. “I…have no idea who that could be.” She pauses, lowering her work. “Should I answer…?”

Koltira shrugs from his position not far from her, where he’s restoring a wooden rocking chair. “Um…unless you want me to?” He half reaches for Byfrost.

“No no,” Anarchaia stops him with a lifted hand and a chuckle. “I’ll see who it is. Heh.” She makes her way to the door after gently setting her work aside. “Oh…Grim.” She leans out to glance down the path. “How did you…?”

“Some mousy guard teleported me here. Not sure if you should be worried about his knowledge of where you live…” Grimory pushes his messy hair back and straightens, feeling as though he’s in different company when not having to speak to her mask.

The mage’s face falls into an unimpressed scowl. “Mousy, you say. Hm. Fairly certain I know who you’re talking about. He knows where everyone lives. The archivist’s apprentice.”

The demon hunter makes a face of mild discomfort. “That’s…allowed?”

“No. It’s not.”

Grimory hums, then clears his throat and shakes his head. “Uh, I was wondering if I could…speak with you.”

She gives a faint smile. “Of course. Come in. We’re just—”

“Alone. If that’s okay.”

“Oh…uhm. I don’t see why not.” She steps outside and closes the door quietly behind her. “You look awful.”

“I feel awful,” he adds quietly and scratches at the stubble on his cheek. He sighs and folds his arms around himself. “I wanted some advice. And…I can’t trust Ali. She doesn’t want to hurt my feelings badly enough to tell me I’m a monster.”

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows. “And I do?”

He purses his lips. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I assume you’re wondering what to do. After…y’know.” She takes a similar posture and taps the toe of her boot in the dirt.

“I guess.” His slit pupils avoid her face.

Anarchaia inhales deeply, then sighs. “I think…getting some closure with Kel’ori would really—” She stops at the sound of his quiet groan.

“I can’t. I _couldn’t_.” He reaches a hand up to cover his face with his weathered palm.

She furrows her brow at the dirt beneath his fingernails. “I think if you explain to her about what you went through, as well, she’ll understand.”

“I don’t…” He sighs into the heel of his hand.

She frowns. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Sitting in my quarters.” He swallows, unable to say the second part, and lowers his hand to look at her. “I haven’t slept until this morning. When I came back to Dalaran to see Ali.”

Her face softens at the glistening of his vibrant green eyes. “Your superiors just allowed you to do that?”

“No, they’re pretty pissed.” He forces a smile. “Shipping me back in the morning. I just…” He looks down. “I wanted to say that you guys probably aren’t all that safe around me and maybe we should go our separate ways from here on out, yeah?”

“Absolutely not.” The mage scowls. “Grim, we’re your _friends_. We know who you are and what you are—and _aren’t_—capable of.” Her scowl fades to a soft frown. “We aren’t abandoning you. Especially when you need us most.” She sets a hand on his arm. “Like right now.”

He flinches at her touch and refuses to look up. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I can’t stop seeing it. When I close my eyes. _Her face—_” He covers his face with a hand again and turns away.

“Hey, no, don’t. It’s…” Anarchaia pulls his hand away from his face and stops, eyes widening, when the sparkle of a tear rolls down his cheek. “Oh, Grim…”

He turns his head away more to hide the rest of the tears welling in his eyes. He grits his teeth when her arms wrap around his torso. His throat tightens and he swallows. A quiet moment passes and he rubs at his nose with the back of a wrist then sniffles quietly. “You’re right. I should…say _something_ to her…”

Anarchaia pushes her cheek into his back and nods. “I’ll go with you, if you’d like. Try to get her to see reason…”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s…fine.” With a heavy sigh he collects himself. “I should get back.”

The mage steps away and frowns, brow furrowed upward. “Are you sure? You could come in…”

“No. Really. You two have your little renovation or whatever, yeah?”

“Nonsense,” she says with a gentle smile and grabs him by the wrist. “We have running water. It’s not warm because the heater in the cellar needs fixing, but I can heat it for you. And drinks, of course.”

Grimory cringes as he’s pulled inside, then swallows a sigh at the sight of Koltira in the living room. He clears his throat and shifts to a more casual position, then lifts a hand. “Uh. Hey. Heh.”

Anarchaia holds up a hand to conjure a glass that’s then filled with whiskey. She pushes it into his hand. “I’ll get a bath going for you, okay? You just wait right here.” She turns and disappears up the staircase.

Koltira lifts his own glass as salute to the demon hunter. “You here to help or just to make the house look better by comparison?”

The Illidari runs his free palm over his mouth, his weathered fingers scratching against his five o’clock shadow. “More of the latter, I imagine.” He looks around, desperate to make conversation and take attention away from himself. “You guys are doing a bang-up job. I assume. I don’t know what this place looked like beforehand.”

“Like a minor apocalypse had happened. Here.” He slides a kitchen chair beside him and drops sandpaper beside it. “Just until Ana is ready for you.”

A small smile crosses Grimory’s lips and he sets himself on the floor. He sets the whiskey aside, unable to stomach it at the moment, and sets to work sanding the aged, worn finish off a leg of the chair. “Then yeah, it looks great. Nearly habitable.”

Koltira chuckles. “Nearly.” He says nothing for a minute, then takes a contemplative breath. “I like to keep my hands busy. It helps me…cope. I know it’s not the same thing, but…I often find myself dwelling on things my body did against my wishes.” He avoids looking at the man as though doing so will spook him.

Grimory’s ears pull back and a faint panic fills his eyes but he otherwise makes no indication that the words faze him. “I…imagine that’s good advice. Heh.” The lump in his throat jerks as he swallows and turns the chair to get a better angle. “I’ve heard stories about the death knights. And their…plights.”

“I hope you’ll forgive Ana for telling me of yours. My opinion was not a good one, but I understand, now. A warrior I once knew would say you’re just bad at being a demon hunter…because you’re too strong an elf.” He runs his thumb along a rough edge on the curve of the rocker.

Grimory’s features soften and he inhales quietly. “I can’t say I believe that. To be honest that just sounds like some bullshit to make someone feel better.” His eyes flick to the other man for a brief moment. “No offense.”

“She sure believed it. Still does. Hell, I went through four years of torture because of it. But maybe you’re right and it’s bullshit. Which leaves me as probably the worst death knight in history, and you as some fool who can’t wrangle his own demon—literally.” He swallows a drink and glances sideways at the man. “Personally, I prefer the former explanation.”

Grimory says nothing for a long while and gets to work on the second leg. “I guess.” A thump and a quiet expletive from the ceiling cause his ears to perk then relax. “I figure the logical thing to do would be to train. To get better.” He pauses. “Or end it so no one has to deal with the world’s worst demon hunter ever again.”

Koltira purses his lips. “But then they win. End it and the shadows are victorious—in your case demons. I don’t know about you, but I’m too competitive to let those bastards best me.” He smirks at the demon hunter, then returns to smoothing the rough edges of the chair.

“How do you deal with them in the mean time?” the demon hunter asks casually, not looking up from his work.

Koltira shrugs. “Distractions. Keeping busy. Ali helped…a lot. Now, though, Ana is much better for me. I warn you, though, you will never not see the faces of those you’ve hurt. Just hope your number stays low. I lost count.” He closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “You’re lucky you can try making amends with this one. I recommend it.”

Grimory nods after a few seconds. “Yeah. Ana convinced me that it’s what I should do.” He sighs and starts on the third leg. “Sorry you’re so experienced with this.”

The death knight shrugs. “It’s life now. If you need someone to talk to…I can try to help. Don’t push your friends away, you’ll only make it worse.”

Grimory’s brow furrows slightly and he says nothing. When he’s halfway through the last leg of the chair, Anarchaia’s light footsteps come down the stairs. “Okay, all set for you. Had to put a heat retainment charm on the basin. Heh.”

“Is that what was taking so long?” the demon hunter says with a small smile.

“Well that and I was eavesdropping. Heh.” She takes the sandpaper from him and gently pushes him toward the stairs when he stands. “Towels in the cabinet along with soap and oils.”

“I get it. I’m dirty. Thank you.”

She chuckles as he disappears up the steps, then sighs and drops into his spot on the floor to continue his work. “Well that was depressing,” she says quietly, frowning. “That poor man.”

Koltira nods and sighs. “He seems resistant to being helped. Not that I blame him. I suppose the comparison was weak to begin with, hmm? He raped a girl. All I did was help murder my kin and countless humans.”

Anarchaia purses her lips up at him. “At least their suffering ended there. And they weren’t necessarily your friends whom you’ll probably see time and time again afterward.” The sandpaper makes easy work of the rest of the chair on its own. “But you’re right. At least he has the opportunity to…_make amends_, I guess. At least he agreed to that.”

Koltira doesn’t move for a moment as he scrutinizes the wood under his fingertips and thinks. “It doesn’t matter what was done, though. Losing your own will…watching helplessly from a cage in the back of your mind…it’s not something one can just come back from. It haunts you because you can’t turn off _feeling_ it happen. Honestly, I think even him in this state is a facade, hiding just how broken he feels right now.” He chews on his lower lip and turns to look into Anarchaia’s eye. “Watch him closely. I lost some good comrades once our will was restored—and it wasn’t war which took them.”

The mage sighs and stands to stride over and sit beside him while he speaks. She picks up the vase she’d been working on and frowns, then turns to him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow at his last words. “You…you think he’s at risk of _killing himself?_”

Koltira shrugs. “I don’t know him well enough, I don’t think, to guess if he would. But it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Her frown deepens. “I…” She sighs and looks down at the vase in her hands, staring into her own reflection. She hesitates. “I’m worried, now. He…” She pauses, unsure if she should divulge, then lowers her voice. “I’ve never seen him cry before, Kolt. We should keep an eye on him. He can’t permanently kill himself anywhere but the Twisting Nether, so if he’s always with us…”

The death knight abandons his project to slide closer to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I know he means a lot to you, so I’ll…do my best to keep an eye on him. I know you’re sensitive about it, but, having Alisbeth in on this—without telling her why, of course—would be wise. He’d never spend another moment alone.” He half chuckles.

She purses her lips, but her face remains somber as she looks up at him. “For _me?_ You don’t consider him a friend? His death would mean nothing to you?” She sighs and brings her hand up to his before he can react. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. This is all just so stressful. And I agree that Ali would be a useful asset…”

“It would affect me, just not nearly as much as you. He and I… I wanted to be his friend, but it seems we always end up going for the throat.” He sets a gentle kiss on her temple. “So, yes, I’ll do this for _you_.”

“Well, thank you.” She smiles but avoids looking up at him. “I’ll see if I can’t secretly explain to Alisbeth that she needs to not leave him alone.” She perks at the sound of footfalls coming down the stairs and directs her smile to Grimory.

“Thanks,” he says tiredly as he styles his newly washed hair. “This all wasn’t really necessary…”

Anarchaia stands and goes to him. “What are friends for? Heh.” She lifts her hands to the short hairs still on his cheeks and fire explodes between her palms and his skin. He jerks and stumbles away quickly, hands on his face as the faint smell of burning hair wafts up. “Sorry,” she chuckles. “I should have warned you first.”

He rubs at the warm, smooth skin of his jawline and chuckles. “No. That’s…convenient.”

“Can we get you anything else?” she continues, fiddling with her fingers.

“No. I…think I should get going back, actually. I’m sure Ali’s worried.”

“Oh! You’ve been to her already. Good! Uh… I’ll send you to Undercity and you can get to Dalaran from there if that’s acceptable.”

He nods and gives Koltira a quick glance. “Thanks again. Both of you.” Anarchaia sighs as he disappears in a swirl of light.

Koltira blinks after the demon hunter. “I assume this means we have to go back, now?”

The mage looks at the clock near the fireplace, then smiles. “We have a few hours before sunrise…”

Koltira hums. “How much refurbishing do you think we can get done in a few hours?”

She takes up her spot beside him again and picks up the vase and rag. “Oh, I don’t know. Some. Unless you have a less productive idea.”

One corner of his mouth jerks up to smile. “I might…”

~ * ~

Grimory lands lightly on the balcony of the Legerdemain Lounge, then pushes inside quietly. “Hey. I’m back.” He narrows his eyes in the darkness and closes the door. “You…_are_ still here, yeah?”

Alisbeth’s little blizzards of her eyes pop up over the blanket’s edge. “Of course, I’m still here. If I left, then you couldn’t find me. If you can’t find me, how can you not leave me?”

He smiles and sits on the edge of his unofficial side of the bed. “Sound logic.” He sighs and stares into the blue lights of her eyes glowing in the darkness. “Thank you, by the way. For being there for me, I mean.” His smile fades some and turns somber. “I’m sorry I left.”

She smiles and curls around him like she had before. “Did you get your thing done?”

He frowns, suddenly feeling guilty for not trusting her. “Yeah. I wasn’t gone too long, was I? Heh.”

She grins up at him and presses a cheek to his thigh. “I counted, and it wasn’t that long. You want to go back to sleep?”

He returns the grin. “No, I…” He pauses. _I can talk to Kel’ori later…_ “I’d rather just sit here with you.” He flicks one of her white tresses into her face and over her eyes then chuckles. “At least until I have to go.”

She smiles and wraps her arms around to hug his thigh. She rubs her nose into his trousers as her hair tickles across it. “Where are you going this time?” She whispers, “Is it another secret?”

“Back to Argus,” he responds quietly. “Or I’ll be discharged.”

She giggles again. “It’s cute that you think you’re going without me.” She sits up to wrap her arms under his, her legs around him and her chest to his back. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, horny-boy.”

He sobers a bit and brings a hand up to rest on her knee while he stares into the darkness. “You’re really not afraid? What if…” He swallows, finding he can’t say the words.

Alisbeth sets her fingertip to his lips, even though he’d stopped himself. “But nothing. No, I’m not afraid. You’re not going to hurt me. Or anyone else. I believe in you. Why don’t you?”

“Because I couldn’t stop it last time,” he says into her finger. “I was caught completely off guard, and nothing will stop it from happening again.” _I could always just shackle Taveth to myself._ “Because I don’t believe in myself,” he finishes quietly.

“Then it’s a good thing your opinion doesn’t count. I’m not afraid of you and I never will be. I’m going to Argus, whether you want me to or not.” She locks her arms around him and squeezes tight.

The demon hunter remains silent for a long time, then gives a single, breathy laugh. “I guess I’m stuck with you, then.” He frowns and knits his blond brow. “I want you to promise me something, though. If I ever lose control again, you need to kill me.”

The death knight’s throat closes and she grits her teeth. “You’re not going to.”

He turns his head to look at the lights of her eyes from the corner of one of his own. “I mean it, Ali. And you don’t have to worry, I won’t stay dead forever, remember?”

She shakes her head against his back and swallows away the knot as best she can. “No.”

He furrows his brow again. “Why not? You’d rather what happened last time happen again? Or worse? The rest of you won’t come back if you’re killed.”

She whimpers between his shoulder blades. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

He squeezes her knee in his fingers and brings the other hand up to grab hers. “Even knowing I’ll be back? That you’ll be protecting your friends and family?”

Alisbeth says nothing, just releases the demon hunter and slips from the bed to crawl underneath. Her tears roll across the bridge of her nose as she curls into a ball, her shoulder nearly pressed to the underside of the bed above her.

Grimory frowns and watches her go but does not follow. He presses his face into his palms, elbows on his knees, then pulls his ears back at the sound of her sniffling. “Ali, please don’t cry. I know it’s hard. I…need you to be strong.”

“But I’m not,” she says, her voice thick as she tries to hold back her crying. “I can’t. Ask someone else. Someone who doesn’t… Ask Koltira.”

He sobers. “Fine. I will,” he responds and scoffs quietly. “I’m sure he’d have no trouble.”

“Okay,” Alisbeth whispers.

“Come back out.” He reaches a hand down to where she can see it. “We’ll lie together until morning, yeah?”

She inches closer, but stops. “Only if you promise not to make me kill you.” She cries harder at the thought and reaches out to take his hand and grip it as though letting go will kill him.

He frowns at the strength she’s using to hold onto him and sighs. With ease he pulls her out from under the bed and lifts her into his lap. “I promise,” he whispers, resting his chin atop her head.

Alisbeth rubs her palm over her eyes and snuggles into him. “I want to go back to having fun. I don’t like when you’re upset.”

“I do, too.” He leans back, pulling her down to lie atop him and sighs. “Everything will be back to normal eventually…” He lifts his arms to lace his fingers beneath his head. _I hope._

She stretches to lie beside him and rest her head on his bicep. “Promise?”

The corners of his lips tighten as he stares up at the ceiling. “Do you want me to lie?”

Alisbeth sighs. “No. I just want you to promise. Things will get better.”

“I can’t promise that. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Alisbeth closes her eyes to the darkness and says nothing.


	22. Chapter 22

Anarchaia sighs and shakes her hands out at her sides as she collects herself. She inhales and lifts a hand, then knocks.

A bright-eyed Kel’ori opens the door, toweling her hair dry. She gives the other mage a calm smile. “Good morning, Ana. What brings you here?”

The other girl returns the smile and tilts her head slightly. “I…was wondering if you were ready to go. Heh.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and frowns. “Oh. Right. That.” She glances into her room and indicates for Anarchaia to come inside. This time the air overhead is clear, and the space is immaculately cleaned as though the floating clothes extravaganza had never happened. She motions at the boots, gloves, and mask on the stool. “Give me a moment to grab a few things. Conjuring from here to there is so…taxing. And I am just exhausted after doing all that. Docra always knows what to do.” She collects several things into a bag that matches her multi-tonal purple robes. She sets it across her shoulders and throws a lavender cloak over herself. She does all this while pointedly not looking down at herself. Once she decides she’s ready—despite her hair remaining wet, unbrushed, and unstyled, and not a single swipe of makeup on her face—she nods. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Oh. I nearly forgot.” Anarchaia turns away to pull her current mask off her head and replace it with the one that matches her new robes. She sits to slide off her boots and replace those as well, followed by her gloves, then sends the old ones away. She stands, sways for a second as she adjusts to the heeled shoes, then sighs at the other’s appearance. “Sorry again about this…” She conjures a hearthstone but hesitates. “I honestly tried.”

Kel’ori shrugs as though she’s accepted her fate. “I’m sure Kalec means well. After all, I didn’t tell him what happened…” She purses her lips for a moment and sighs. “I just can’t tell him. I don’t want that…_look_.”

Anarchaia frowns. “Kel, he deserves to know…”

Kel’ori’s eyes flare and her lips pinch. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll just pity me and I don’t need pity, okay?” She shoves the other mage out the door and closes them out in the hall, then turns to put up her wards.

Anarchaia frowns and sighs’. She fidgets with her hearthstone. “If he truly cares about you, he won’t pity you. If someone I cared for was…well…_I’d_ want to know. Wouldn’t you?”

Kel’ori spins on the mage, nostrils flaring and lips pursed to a thin, white line. A hundred things to say to Anarchaia zip through her head. Instead she lifts her hand and disappears in a swirl of purple sparkles.

Anarchaia blinks, then sighs when she’s left alone. With a sad shake of her head and a whirl of green glow, she disappears as well.

Kel’ori appears in a green puff and looks around the Vindicaar. She heads down to a lower deck and finds Taveth writing in his journal and eating a strange Argusian breakfast. The mage drops down beside him and plucks up what she assumes is bacon, and crunches down on it. “Mmm, this is the best bacon I’ve ever had.”

“Eh,” Taveth says, finishing a sentence in his book, “I find it to have an odd aftertaste. Take it all, if you like it.”

She smiles and works her starving way through every piece. “I’m going to get me a breakfast. With extra of that… Whatever it is.” She pats his head and goes to where the cook is setting out a fresh batch of the meat.

Alisbeth drops into the seat in front of Taveth, her face sad and her eyes on the table.

“You okay?” he asks.

She doesn’t move or acknowledge.

Grimory, reading an unfurled scroll filled with mission details—and a snarky statement about his unauthorized leave—wanders in after Alisbeth. He glances up from his paper for only a moment, but it’s enough to recognize the head of cascading blond hair near the cafeteria line. He quickly backs out of the room and presses his back to the wall beside the doorway, expression a mixture of apprehension and fear.

Anarchaia wanders the decks until she finds the demon hunter, then frowns as she approaches. “Hey Grim.” Her eyes flick to the familiar party inside and she purses her lips. “Oh. Uh. Have you perhaps seen Koltira? I told him to go ahead of me and I haven’t found where he’s gone.”

Grimory shakes his head and clears his throat. “I’ve only just got here myself, actually. Heh. Sorry.”

“That’s fine. Thank you anyway.” She sets a calming hand on his arm before sauntering into the mess hall as well and waving to the elves at the table. “Good morning.”

Kel’ori sets her tray beside Taveth’s with a little more noise than necessary. “Ana.” She drops down to start in on her questionable maybe-bacon and some oddly colored scrambled eggs.

Taveth smiles at Anarchaia, though gives Kel’ori a sideways glance. “Good morning, Ana. Thank you for the note, by the way. I’d have never made it back here without the warning.” He chuckles. “I was spending time in Stormwind. Oh, and, um, the library doesn’t seem to have the book you’re looking for, that I’ve seen so far. Once I’m done looking in the royal library I can move onto the citadel, if you’re okay with the wait?”

Anarchaia’s face warms and she waves a hand. “O-oh! Heh. Yeah, no hurry.” She wrings her hands and sets herself across from him. “You guys haven’t happened to have seen Kolt, no? Granted I haven’t looked very hard, but it’s easier with help…” She avoids Kel’ori’s eye and looks across at the forlorn Alisbeth but ’doesn’t address her demeanor.

Alisbeth sighs at the table. “Probably got caught talking to Thass. He does that, you know.”

Kel’ori makes a face. “What’s got you so mopey?”

The death knight blatantly turns her head away in a dramatic display as she looks at the mage beside her. “Did you have a good vacation? I didn’t. I’m sure you did, because…I’m sure.”

Kel’ori frowns and instead gives her meal her undivided attention.

Anarchaia’s brow furrows and she frowns beneath her mask. “What makes you so sure about that?”

“You got new robes. Special occasion?” Taveth asks the mage after Alisbeth shrugs and doesn’t respond.

Grimory sighs, clenching the mission statement in his fingers and finding he can’t bring himself to face the others. He runs a hand over his hair and trudges his way upstairs to wait near the teleportation platform.

Koltira finds Grimory on the upper deck and nods a hello. “You seen Ana around? You’d think her robes would stand out to me by now.”

Grimory returns the nod. “Oh, uh, yeah, actually. Mess hall with everyone else.” He pauses, the most recent interaction with her playing in his mind. “Recognizing her robes wouldn’t do you any good anyway. I think she’s wearing something else.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “You think? I’m, uh, going to go get them. Get this shit over with, right? You coming?”

A pang of panic strikes Grimory in the chest and he looks away and merely shakes his head, saying nothing.

Anarchaia gives a quiet chuckle to Taveth and abandons trying to squeeze conversation from Alisbeth. “Kel’ori made them for me, as it happens. Aren’t they pretty? Enchanted and everything.”

“Enchanted for what? I didn’t know Kel could enchant.” Taveth regards his sister with a small smile.

“Docra did it after she drugged me.”

The elf blinks in rapid succession. “Who? Why? I… I’m missing a whole thing here, aren’t I?”

Anarchaia laughs again. “Just a friend. Nice lady. And, don’t tell the other apprentices, but I use fire dampening enchantments on my robes. It makes my spells less…volatile.”

Kel’ori laughs as though she hadn’t recently been upset with the other mage. “Do you realize how angry they’d be? I’ve never met anyone that has to hamper their own magic.” She holds out a piece of maybe-bacon to Anarchaia. “You should try this.”

Koltira nods at the demon hunter. “I understand.” He heads downstairs to meet with the others. He pauses to take in the new blue robes, then drops down beside Anarchaia. “This is an interesting change. I approve. However, I’m also here to see if you guys are ready to get going.”

“It’s not something to be proud of. Heh.” Anarchaia gives Alisbeth a nervous sideways glance as she shakes her head and waves a polite hand at the offering. “I had a big breakfast. Heh.” She perks at the sound of Koltira’s voice and turns to smile. “You approve, you say? That’s good, otherwise I’d be forced to use them as dishrags, instead.” She chuckles, then looks at Kel’ori. “I’m… joking of course.”

Koltira chuckles. “Are you guys ready to get going? Grim is waiting for us upstairs.”

Kel’ori pauses in her chewing and frowns, then sets down her fork, deciding she’s no longer hungry. “I… Sure. Why not.”

Alisbeth jerks to her feet and takes off up the stairs.

Anarchaia stands and stretches her arms above her head. “I suppose. Let’s go do our part.” She gives Kel’ori a sad smile. “You can always bring your strange meat with you.”

Kel’ori stands abruptly. “I’m _done._ You can stop telling me what to do, now.” In a swirl of purple, she disappears.

Taveth purses his lips. “She seems…moody. Have you actually been trying to tell her what to do?”

“I think the more important question is: do you think she went down to the hovel or back to Dalaran?” Koltira says.

Anarchaia blinks, taken aback. “I…_suggested_ she do something earlier. Didn’t command.” She sighs. “I’d be impressed if she could teleport thousands of miles through space. And if she _did_ return to Dalaran, she’s now Kalec’s problem.” She turns for the doorway, new boots tapping quietly on the metal floor.

Koltira catches up with the mage and pulls her into a sideways hug. “I wonder if maybe she should also be watched, but not forced into anything. I…can’t imagine what it must be like for her. And Kalec really said she had to return?”

Anarchaia nods to a large, grey Draenei man in the hall as they pass. “She…didn’t tell him. I told her she should because he deserves to know. She wasn’t thrilled about the notion. Or with me.” She snakes her arm around his waist as well, then scrunches her face at the memory of Kalecgos’ smug grin. “That man is impossible.”

“Oh, now you have to tell me everything,” Koltira says.

The mage scowls and clenches her fist at her side as they reach the corridor at the end of the hallway. “I tried my best to make him let Kel’ori stay behind—I gave him all my best logic without actually telling him what had happened. I tried to get him to give her a better grade on her work, but the second I said something offensive he shut down and sent a letter to Master.” She frowns. “Who almost expelled me.”

Koltira frowns. “You offended a superior and you’re surprised by his reaction? What did you even say?”

“I told him that a teacher who cares about his apprentice would take into account her feelings.” She stops at the staircase and decides to wait for Taveth. “And I’m right! I still am.” She folds her arms and scowls more. “No amount of forced groveling will change that.”

Taveth scrambles to put his things away, then picks up both trays to take to the rubbish bins. He keeps his eyes on the retreating pair as he goes.

Eophen gives a quiet noise of surprise as he turns into the mess hall only to bump into the rushing scholar. He quickly reacts, grabbing Taveth’s leather vest before he can fall. “Ah,” the Draenei says with a smile. “My apologies. I should really watch where I am going.”

Taveth’s hands automatically clamp onto the large one at his chest to help steady himself. A small blush colors his ears as his cheeks warm. “Oh. Heh. Eophen. H-hi. How are you?” He grows self-conscious and releases the man’s hand, then clears his throat.

Eophen releases Taveth at the same moment and folds his arms over his dirty leather apron, blushing some as well. “I am well. Glad to see you are still here, actually. How are your studies coming? Learning a lot, one imagines.”

Taveth shakes his head. “Actually, we just got back. We, um, took a small leave from Argus. My sister…had a…small accident. Well, not small.” _Not an accident, either._ “How have you been?”

Eophen genuinely frowns. “Oh. The pretty blond elf, yes. I am sorry to hear. Is she doing well, now?”

Taveth shrugs slowly. “She’s in one piece. Heh. I’m sorry you missed her. Maybe you can catch her next time she’s on board.” He fidgets and stares at the floor, feeling foolish.

Eophen blinks and knits his brow ever so slightly. “Eh. Yeah. I suppose.” He chews on the inside of his cheek, then gives Taveth an encouraging pat on the shoulder before walking around him and toward the cafeteria line. “Until next time, Taveth.”

Taveth’s ears droop and he turns. “She’s, eh, still single. Heh.” He turns his back to the draenei and cringes at himself.

Eophen gives a chuckle he cannot restrain. “I will keep that in mind, friend,” he says without turning. He waves. “Be well.”

Koltira chuckles at the mage. “Well, no wonder he shut down. You brought into question how much he cares about her. If someone did the same to me about you, I’d punch them in the mouth.” He leans against the wall and takes her hands with a sigh. “He has no reason to think she’s in danger or that something is wrong…unless she opens up to him. And bullying her into it probably won’t work. If I told you to do something you didn’t want to do, would you do it? I’ll answer that for you: no, you wouldn’t. You’d…probably do the opposite just to spite me,” he says on a laugh.

Anarchaia purses her lips. “I didn’t _bully her._ I simply said that if I were Kalec, I’d want to know. If he’d actually gotten to me, how would you feel if I never told you?” She frowns. “And if it were important, I’d most definitely do something I don’t want to do…for _you_.”

“And what if she’s not ready to talk about it? Does your opinion negate her feelings?” Koltira eyes the elf still in the mess hall and sighs impatiently.

Anarchaia sobers and deflates like a scolded child. “No…”

Koltira smiles kindly at the mage. “You can’t know how you’d react unless it happens to you. Just let her handle things at her own pace, right?” He scoffs at the immobile elf blushing and looking perturbed in the middle of the mess hall. “Taveth! We’re on the clock, let’s move!”

Taveth glances behind him at Eophen, then blushes harder and runs to the other two. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“That’s fine,” Anarchaia says with a smile and opens a portal to the hovel. “He’s cute. New friend of yours?” She elbows the elf in the side and winks though he cannot see.

“Friend of Grim’s,” Taveth says, then steps through the portal.

Anarchaia blinks after him, then gives a shrug to Koltira before following the high elf through.

~ * ~

Alisbeth dives at the demon hunter.

Grimory chuckles and stumbles a little at the impact. “Hi again. All set?”

She smiles up at him. “I have everything I need right here.”

Grimory can’t help smiling. He pushes her hair from her face. “Me, too. Shall we go on without them?”

Alisbeth nods excitedly. “Just us. We don’t need the others, right? Less people for either of us to hurt, or to hurt us. They don’t want me around anyway. Come on!” She pulls him gently toward the beacon.

Grimory nods, follows her into the portal, and the two disappear in brilliant flashes of light.

Kel’ori notices the two come out of the portal and freezes, her hands clenched in panic. The demon hunter immediately notices her and spins on his heel to stride to the opposite end of the camp, pulling Alisbeth with him. He takes up a spot near the cliffside and sits to wait for the others.

Alisbeth looks out over the valley below through the opening in the side of the cliff. “So many things to kill. So little—” She gasps and scrambles over the boulders and down to the jagged, tiered cliffs overlooking the Xenedar’s crash site.

Grimory perks, then stands to follow. He slides down the rocky outcrop a few yards behind, kicking up arid dust and pebbles. “Ali, where are you going? Slow down.”

Alisbeth drops into the middle of an outcropping and stoops to pick up a dirty red ribbon tied to a rope caught on a rock. “Squeaker.” She frowns at Grimory. “We have to find him!” She looks around at all the little grey and green rodents and gives a cry of defeat as she throws herself to the ground. “I don’t know which one he is!” She covers her face and cries into her palms.

The demon hunter frowns and looks about, then kneels to grab her gently by the arms. “Hey, no no. Don’t cry, yeah? We’ll find him. Just…eh…” His slit pupils flick from creature to creature and he sighs. “Does it have to be that exact one?” He takes the ribbon from her.

Alisbeth peeks out at the demon hunter from between her fingers. “The others won’t like me!”

Grimory stuffs the ribbon into his pack. “Then wander around until you find the one that doesn’t run from you?”

Alisbeth stands and clenches her jaw at him. “You don’t care. Give me my ribbon.” She wipes at her eyes and nose, her gaze on her shaking palm.

Grimory pulls his ears back but does not scowl. A slight, forlorn frown on his lips, he silently hands over the ribbon.

Alisbeth spools the rope and rushes to the nearest pack of the critters. “Skitterbug!” As she reaches them, they scatter and run around in fear. She runs toward another. “Snuffleupagus?” She covers her face and holds back a sob as it runs away as well.

Grimory furrows his brow upward and sets himself on a flat rock to wait. He jerks as something brushes his hand, then chuckles at the marsuul doing its best to squirm beneath his arm and into the pocket of his pack where his rations are stored. He scruffs it gently and places it in his lap, then sits to watch Alisbeth search through the others.

In a fit of anger, Alisbeth throws the rope and drops to the ground. She buries her face in her hands and cries quietly.

Grimory sighs and stands, the loose skin around the animal’s neck still gently held in his fingers. He strides over to Alisbeth, then dangles the rodent before her covered face. “Hey.”

Alisbeth uncovers her eyes and looks at the marsuul. She sniffs and reaches up to puke a dot on its forehead that the others don’t have. “Snuggles! You found him!” She jumps up to grip the demon hunter tightly in her arms. “What would I do without you, Grim?”

Grimory gives a tentative smile and rubs her shoulder with a palm. “Not have pets, I guess. Let’s get going, yeah? The others are waiting.” He takes her in his arms and spreads his wings to fly them up the hillside and back into the hovel where he sets the two back down. “Don’t lose him this time, okay?”

~ * ~

Taveth finds Kel’ori stuffed behind an outcropping. “What are you doing there?”

“Hmm? Me? Nothing. I— Nothing. Are we ready to go?” She stands and dusts herself off, her eyes wildly scanning for the demon hunter. She relaxes when he’s nowhere to be found.

Anarchaia spins in her spot, looking around the camp. “We need to find either Turalyon or Illidan, one would assume. If only at least one of them would remain on the ship…”

Kel’ori shifts slightly. “Turalyon is in the cave, talking to the diamond dwarf.”

Taveth raises his eyebrows. “Magni? Oh. I— Excuse me.” He rushes to the cave digging for his book and pen.

Anarchaia perks as well and jogs after Taveth, nearly tripping when her heel catches in the dirt. Her parchment and quill follow. “Wait for me!”

Koltira rolls his eyes at Kel’ori and they both find comfortable-looking boulders to sit on.

“Magni! It’s been a while, hello,” Taveth says, smiling. “What brings you to Argus?”

Magni Bronzebeard glances up from his conversation with sparkling, prismatic eyes, then regards the elf with a grin. “Well if it ain’t the lad from the royal library. Afraid I didn’t catch yer name, boy.” He holds out a hand.

Anarchaia stumbles into Taveth’s back as he stops, then scrambles away and smiles embarrassedly. Her eyes light up. “You’ve _met?_ And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Heh. Taveth…again…” He shifts, hoping the reminder isn’t rude. He gives Anarchaia a tentative smile. “I…needed a book from the Iron Forge royal library… Several times… Heh.”

Magni scratches at his beard and it makes a noise that causes Anarchaia to cringe. “Ye’ll have to forgive me, boy. Seen a lot o’ blond elves in my day. Hard to keep a name to a face.”

The mage clears her throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve heard that you can speak or have spoken to Azeroth’s heart. Is that true? What does it sound like?” Her quill begins scribbling despite his lack of immediate answer.

Magni purses his lips. “Aye,” he merely says. “As much as I love divulging in my adventures and research, I’m inclined to think there’s more suitable settings.”

Anarchaia pauses. “O-oh! Of course. How…rude of me. Heh.”

Taveth nods absently as he draws out the dwarf, including little sparkles and notes about his diamond form. “It’s quite all right. Varian just grunted at me when I requested access. Never a word, just a nod and a grunt. Always busy. Heh. Great man.” He pauses, staring at a blank spot on the page. “Is it strange to miss someone you never actually knew?” he muses. He closes his one journal and trades it for another, where he begins scribbling about the late king.

Anarchaia sets a hand on his shoulder. “Of course not. When I listen to Master’s recounts of Medivh, I miss him too. And he’s been dead since before I moved to Dalaran. Heh. Maybe I just feel badly for Master.”

Turalyon smiles down at the mage with the now familiar voice. “Speaking of Khadgar, how’s he been this last week or so? He kind of disappeared.”

“Oh. He’s…fine.” Anarchaia swallows and frowns. “Busy. Uhm. Where do you intend to send us today?”

Turalyon lifts a brow at her short response but smiles all the same. “We’ve pushed our battalion to Destiny Point. You’ll travel there and aid the forces and footholds we’ve established there.”

Taveth changes books again and writes in their new assignment. “Thank you. We’ll head that way.” He heads out of the cave to deliver the orders to Alisbeth and Grimory, assuming Anarchaia will tell the other two. “Destiny Point.”

“What if I want to have pets?” Alisbeth asks quietly, her eyes trained on his.

Grimory smiles and messes her hair. “Then I suggest you keep track of them, yeah?” Kel’ori’s presence burns at his back and he shifts uncomfortably, muscles aching from the stiffness.

The death knight purses her lips. “But I want _you_ to help me keep track of them.” She takes the marsuul into her arms and rubs her cheek along the coarse hair on its neck as she stares up at Grimory. “Spartan and I need you, okay?”

Grimory purses his lips. “Not really wanting more children…” He smiles and scratches the marsuul on the tummy; it kicks and nips at his fingers. “But okay.” He nods to Taveth but otherwise says nothing to the man.

Alisbeth’s beams happily up at the demon hunter. “Okay.”

Taveth cocks an eyebrow. _I…missed something…_ “Looks like the others are heading out. Come on.” He turns to join the other three.


	23. Chapter 23

Anarchaia strides over to the other two boredly sitting on boulders. “We have our destination. Ready for adventure?”

Kel’ori sighs. “No.” She stands and dusts off her rear anyway.

Koltira stands to join Anarchaia’s side. “Where are we going?”

Anarchaia frowns at Kel’ori and resists a sad sigh. “Destiny Point,” she says, her voice giving nothing away. “Sounds epic, right?” She drags the two down the path with her. “Not sure how long it’ll take.” She conjures a map and hands it to Koltira. “You seem to be good at that.”

Grimory nods and takes up the rear of the queue beside Alisbeth. _Maybe some demon slaughter will make me feel better…_

Koltira smirks and hands the map back. “South. Just under a day, depending on interruptions.”

Kel’ori stiffens at the demon hunter behind her and grabs tightly to Koltira’s arm. The death knight jerks but doesn’t break free. Taveth pries his sister from the elf and grimaces as she locks her hands around his bicep.

“Heh. You all right?”

Kel’ori purses her lips. “He’s _right_ behind me.”

Taveth rolls his eyes skyward.

The corners of Grimory’s mouth tighten as his ears pick up on the conversation only feet in front of him and he slows to put even more distance between himself and the others. He stares at the ground before him as he walks.

Anarchaia pretends not to notice but pity floods her heart for both the other mage and the Illidari. She forces a smile. “Hey, that’s not too bad. The less time we’re here the better, right?” she chuckles awkwardly.

Koltira sighs, but nods. “It’ll go faster if everyone can get along.”

Anarchaia frowns up at him. <<Well they refuse to talk to one another, so I don’t see that happening anytime soon.>> She scowls. “He said he would…”

Alisbeth pushes the marsuul into the demon hunter’s arms. “Give him a snuggle. It helps.” She smiles encouragingly.

Grimory blinks down at the animal in his arms and furrows his brow. “No, that’s not happening.” He places it on his shoulder and it curls around the back of his neck and chews at his earlobe. He hisses and pokes it in the nose. “Quit it.”

Alisbeth giggles and scratches under the critter’s chin. “Does Grim taste yummy?”

The marsuul chirps and bats at Alisbeth’s finger.

Koltira shakes his head. “Yeah, told me, too.” He looks back at the others, frustration building inside him.

Taveth pulls on Kel’ori’s hand. “Stop squeezing so hard.”

Anarchaia sighs. <<It’s a good thing this is business and not pleasure. Because this is a terrible vacation.>>

~ * ~

The day wears on and the group finds themselves traveling through a narrow ravine. The lack of food and sleep begin to weigh heavily on the demon hunter and he lags farther and farther behind. Every so often he finds himself nodding off and the critter on his shoulder nips at his ear and he jerks back awake.

Alisbeth’s face slowly turns into an endless scowl as Grimory’s awareness declines. She wraps an arm around his waist, allowing him to lean on her when his feet waver. “How much farther?” she finally asks. “Grim needs to rest.”

Kel’ori scoffs quietly. “Who cares if that _mons_—”

“Okay, shut up,” Taveth growls. “You know what? I’m sick of your attitude, Kel.” He rips her hand from his arm and shakes it out, trying to regain some feeling in his fingers. “If I can promise that as long as you _and_ Grimory stay by me, will you shut your bratty mouth about him?”

Kel’ori steps back, her eyes wide and a palm on her chest. “_Excuse me?_ He’s the one that—”

“No, he’s not!” Alisbeth screams and kicks a rock in the mage’s direction. It tumbles to a stop just in front of her robes.

“All right, _that’s enough!_” Anarchaia hisses, keeping her voice to a manageable volume lest shouting attract unwanted attention. “This is ridiculous. We’re all required to be here, so don’t you think it best to just make amends over this? Don’t you want to finish this assignment in peace?”

Grimory looks up for the briefest of moments before returning his eyes to the dirt. He gently pushes himself off Alisbeth’s shoulder and folds his arms, but ultimately says nothing.

“Why should I—” Kel’ori begins.

“Answer my question,” Taveth growls. “If I can guarantee _everyone’s_ safety as long as Grim stays near me, will you shut up?”

She scoffs. “And how are you—”

Taveth withdraws the Spine of Thal’kiel and the mage squeaks and leaps back, her hands out as though to stop him from coming at her. The flame-engulfed skull shimmers into existence over Taveth’s shoulder.

<<Oh, aren’t we a cheery bunch? Did someone die? Was it _wonderful?_>>

“No one died,” Taveth grumbles.

“_Whatthehellisthat?_” Kel’ori hisses.

The skull swirls around the mage, sniffing her with interest. <<Oh, yes, interesting. It’s like you with breasts.>> He chuckles at his own joke. <<Does _this_ one speak Eredun? Or is she as incompetent as the _really_ smelly one?>>

“Now, that’s just uncalled for,” Taveth complains.

Kel’ori cringes. “Did it just say I look like my brother?”

<<_Siblings!_ How quaint. Didn’t know this was a family affair.>> He zips over to examine Grimory. <<Well, this one isn’t doing so great, is he? Looks more pathetic than usual.>>

<<Fuck off,>> Grimory spits at the skull as irritatedly as he can through the haze of weariness.

“Okay,” Taveth hisses. “Can we please stop insulting everyone for just a minute.”

“Taveth, what the hell is that thing?” Kel’ori demands again.

Taveth stares at his feet as he floods with sudden shame. “Thal’kiel. I was doing some research on warlocks for a compilation and…accidentally found the spine dagger. I’m…a warlock.”

Alisbeth’s face contorts to one of horror as she shrinks away from the skull and hides herself behind the demon hunter.

Anarchaia bristles and squares her shoulders. “_Smelly?_ Surely you don’t mean _me_.”

Thal’kiel flies close to the mage, then ricochets from nothing just in front of her. He makes a gagging noise. <<Yes, _you_. The stench is so overwhelming. It’s a travesty that things like _you_ exist. Ugh! _Mages._>>

Koltira watches the scene with mild interest, somewhat glad to be getting more answers. “So, how does this help?”

Taveth takes a deep breath as all eyes turn to him. “When we were fighting that water elemental on that island, Eye of Azshara, Grim pushed himself too far after Ana and Edrah fell unconscious and Ali was disarmed and…very distracted. Spinewing was able to break free, then, too. He was going to kill us all.”

<<Oh, yes! That was such a fine day. Though, I really did want to see all of you dismembered.>> Thal’kiel says, slowly circling Koltira.

“Can you just…not. For five minutes?”

The skull chuckles. <<No, no I can’t. This one is practically a demon himself. What do you call this one? He’s like that other, the one that grabbed me.>>

Taveth’s brow lowers in annoyance. “Koltira. He’s a death knight. Don’t ask, I’ll tell you later—if you let me finish.” He waits for a minute and when he gets no reply, he sighs with relief. “Long story short, just before Spinewing was able to choke the life out of me, I…enslaved him.”

Kel’ori sneers at the demon hunter. “You choked my brother?”

“It was _Spinewing!_” Taveth shouts, putting himself between them. “It’s a separate consciousness from Grim’s. I don’t understand why you don’t get that!”

Koltira clears his throat. “So, uh… Again, relevance?”

Grimory looks at Kel’ori for only a second before looking away again at literally anything else.

“Taveth can dismiss Spinewing whenever he’s broken free,” Anarchaia explains quietly, sneering at the floating skull. “…amongst other things.”

“What kind of ‘other things’ can you do?” Kel’ori demands. “What do you mean dismiss him?”

Taveth sighs. “I send him back so Grimory can regain control of his body.”

“And the other things?”

The elf purses his lips and looks to Anarchaia. “Oh, heh, it’s n-nothing, really.”

“Tabbef?” Alisbeth squeaks from behind Grimory. “You’re a warlock? But…warlocks are evil. I don’t want you to be evil, Tav.”

The skull flies at the death knight and she dives behind a boulder. <<He’s _not_ evil. It’s repulsive. Hey, I’m talking to you!>> He chases her down and she scrabbles away. <<He is the worst thing to ever happen to warlocks.>>

“What is it saying?” she shrieks.

Taveth’s shoulders sag. “That I’m the worst thing to ever happen to warlocks and I disgust him and all sorts of insulting nonsense. I’m not evil, Ali. It was an accident, I promise.”

Grimory grabs the skull by the back of its cranium and plucks it out of the air pulling it away from Alisbeth. His strong fingers hold even as Thal’kiel does his best to wiggle free and screeches Eredun obscenities.

Anarchaia looks between Taveth and Kel’ori and fidgets. She swallows. “He…can control him.”

Koltira’s eyes light, but his face remains set. “Prove it.”

Taveth squirms but says nothing.

Kel’ori folds her arms under her chest. “Show us and I’ll shut up.”

The elf flinches and turns to Grimory. “I’m so sorry. Grim, come over here and hold Koltira’s hand.”

The Illidari immediately saunters to Koltira and releases Thal’kiel to take the death knight’s hand in his own. He flushes and scowls, avoiding eye contact. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Anarchaia grins and brings her fingertips to her lips.

Koltira immediately jerks his hand away. “Very funny. How do we know Grim isn’t in on it?”

Grimory gives him a bemused glare and grabs Koltira’s hand before it gets too far. “You think I _want_ to hold your hand? Get over yourself.”

Koltira makes a face and pulls his hand away again. “Could you stop?”

Taveth chuckles and waves a hand. “Okay, Grim. Come sit on this boulder and set your palm on your scalp.”

“No. I can’t.” Grimory scowls and tiredly does as he’s commanded, sitting upon the large rock and running his fingers through his hair to rest his hand on his head. “How much more of this?” he grunts.

Alisbeth sits up from behind the rock and wraps her arms around the demon hunter. “Let him go, Tav. That’s mean!”

“You can stop,” he says. He purses his lips. “It is mean, that’s why I only did it once as a test. Kel, Grim is my friend and I know he would never harm a single one of us. But just in case, I’ll make sure Spinewing never makes it out again.”

Thal’kiel chuckles evilly. <<Spinewing wound shred all of you into smelly little strips without stopping to so much as see you’re all elves…and a…whatever you are.>> He hovers in front of Anarchaia for a minute to inspect her.

Taveth purses his lips. “I think you’ve overstayed your non-welcome.” He shoves the dagger into his pack. “Does that satisfy everyone? Can we go?”

Kel’ori eyes the demon hunter. “You…stay where Tav can see you. Got it?”

Grimory lowers his hand back to his side and stands. For the first time he looks Kel’ori in the eyes, brow knit. He nods.

Anarchaia sighs. “Perhaps we should take a break, though.” She conjures a chilled cup of water and lifts her mask to drink. “Only a short one. Grim obviously needs rest.”

“I’m fine,” the demon hunter mutters and folds his arms.

“We’re nearly there,” Koltira says. “Then all you living folk can have a picnic or something.”

Kel’ori whimpers. “I second that. I’d love food.”

Anarchaia shrugs, irritated by the demon hunter’s adamance. “Fine, then. Let’s keep at it.” She turns and heads back up the path.

Grimory waits for the rest to follow before following himself. The animal on his shoulder gives a long, apprehensive squeak and sets its head down.

“What’s wrong, Snarky?” Alisbeth scratches under its chin, her own apprehensive gaze bouncing between the creature and the demon hunter.

Taveth slows to walk beside Grimory. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. I feel so terrible for making you do those things. And just now I…I just wanted Kel’ori to let go of my arm and…feel safe.”

Alisbeth purses her lips and stares at the ground. “You’re a warlock,” she says.

He skirts behind the demon hunter to set a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not—”

“Don’t touch me.” She jerks away from him and runs ahead to walk with the others.

“It’s fine,” Grimory grumbles, too tired to say much else. He grits his teeth and watches Alisbeth as she skitters away. A heavy sigh escapes him. “She’ll get over it, Tav. I’ll speak with her…alone.” The marsuul on his shoulder lifts its head to sniff at Taveth when his arm gets close enough, neck stretched to where it has to scramble to stay atop.

Taveth holds out a hand for the critter to sniff. “This is why I don’t tell anyone. I wish I’d never found this confounded dagger. Just be regular Taveth, the weak little scholar.”

“You’re not much different,” Grimory responds tiredly. “Still a weak, little scholar.”

Snuffles cautiously takes hold of Taveth’s fingers, then pushes itself from Grimory’s shoulder and up the high elf’s arm where it chews at the collar of Taveth’s shirt.

Taveth flails, then freezes as the critter’s claws clamp onto his shoulder to hold on. “Don’t! Don’t eat that!” He gently pushes at its nose with the backs of his fingers. “Could you. No. Stop. That’s not food! Grim, feed it something!”

Grimory can’t help smiling. “Oh, I dunno. You were pretty mean to me. Making me hold Kolt’s hand and all…”

Taveth walks close enough for his shoulder to touch Grimory’s arm and proceeds to try urging the marsuul back up onto the demon hunter. “This is hardly fair, I didn’t—_stop chewing on my shirt!_—destroy anything. It was harmless hand-holding.”

Grimory lifts a brow. “Nothing but my pride.” He grins again as the creature abandons Taveth’s shirt to chew on a tress of his hair instead. “Maybe you just taste good.”

“G-get—_ow!_” Taveth shouts and squirms as the creature pulls on his hair. “Grim, I _demand_ you take your pet back!”

Grimory immediately grabs the marsuul from Taveth’s shoulder, then lowers his eyelids and purses his lips. Snuffles cries out in protest and flails its short, clawed feet.

Anarchaia frowns as Alisbeth approaches. “Ali, he’s still your cousin. Doesn’t that matter?”

“Seriously,” Kel’ori says, “I mean, it’s just Tav. He’s harmless even as a warlock. Why do you suddenly hate him?”

“I don’t hate him,” Alisbeth says quietly.

Koltira purses his lips and very casually veers sideways to push Kel’ori away from the others to speak in tones low enough only for the two of them. “Alisbeth was murdered by a forsaken priest and warlock, who tortured her for an entire day before she died.”

“So…she’s _afraid_ of him?” Kel’ori whispers, her eyes wide.

Koltira nods and steers her back to the group, then he wraps an arm around Anarchaia’s shoulders. “One problem solved and another in its place. Yes. This is good…”

The heel of Anarchaia’s boot catches in the soft soil and she stumbles, grabbing onto Koltira as not to fall. She straightens with an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah. Good. At least no one’s getting hurt, right? Heh.” She sobers though continues to smile. “Heh…”

Koltira chuckles. “Are you wearing heels? I… Are you going to break your neck? Should I just carry you?”

Alisbeth looks back, biting her lip as she fights a laugh over the rodent situation, determined to stay upset at her cousin.

Anarchaia straightens and folds her arms. She pouts. “_No._ I can walk just fine in heels. I do it all the time, in fact. Just not when I’m—” She yelps as she stumbles again, this time catching herself on the jutting spike of his pauldron. She frowns. “…adventuring.”

Koltira laughs and sweeps the mage into his arms. “You’ve given me no choice. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow a pair of shoes to be your downfall.”

Kel’ori cringes. “Sorry. I thought they’d be fine… I mean, your robe isn’t dragging, right? Ugh, I’m so hungry. Should’ve finished my breakfast.”

Anarchaia gives another bright chirp of surprise, then huffs and folds her arms, pouting again. “This isn’t necessary. And no, the robes are still clean. I’ve been doing my best to keep them as such.” She frowns. “Nobody wanted to stop for a break. We’re almost there, however. Can you wait a couple hours or so?”

Kel’ori rubs her stomach as it aches and growls. “I feel like my stomach is going to eat itself. _Ugh!_ I would kill for that bacon right now.” She whines and pouts through her nose. “How much farther? I’m absolutely starving. I could eat a whole…” she looks around, “goat thing? D’you think a large enough pyroblast would cook a whole goat-thing and then we can just…” She purses her lips and goes quiet as Alisbeth and Koltira both stare at her with an eyebrow raised.

Anarchaia’s fingers twitch against her arms. “All right, we can stop.” She hops from Koltira’s grasp and lifts a hand to conjure a table of pastries and iced water. “We don’t need to kill the local wildlife. Gods’ know what they even taste like, anyway. Or if they’re endangered and this is their only habitat.”

Alisbeth turns and tuts at the little critter. “Now, now, Sergei, there’s no need for that.” She scratches behind its ear. “I think he’s hungry, too.”

Taveth inspects his collar while moving away from the demon hunter. “I’m sorry, Grim. I really am, but I don’t have a billion shirts lying around, okay? I’m a _scholar_, I can’t afford to—Kel, that cake is only going to make it—”

“Shut your face!” Kel’ori shouts at him, grabbing a handful of little cakes. She shoves one as far into her mouth as she can and bites down. After a few chews she stops and looks at it. A look of distress crosses her face as she debates how undignified and rude it would be to turn around and spit out the cake. She forces herself to chew it and swallows as though it’s the most difficult thing she’s ever done. The mage coughs and sets the other cakes back on the table, tossing the bitten one behind her. She grins at anyone watching, as though what she’d just done was nothing to look at.

Grimory grunts in response and sets the animal back on his own shoulder. He waits for Kel’ori to take what she wants and grabs a pastry and cup of water for himself, then goes to sit as far away from the group as possible while still remaining in eyesight.

Anarchaia furrows her brow and tilts her head at the other mage. “Is there something wrong with the cakes?” She takes one and lifts her mask to lick at the sugary cream on the top. “Tastes fine…” _As far as I know._

Kel’ori makes a face of disgust as the other mage licks the cream. “I…think they’re a little…wrong? Eh-heh. Old maybe?” She brushes her hands off as though any lingering bit of cake will jump into her mouth. “Guess I’m waiting. Heh. Ha ha.” She groans after her forced laugh and drops into the dirt to set her chin in her hands and pout. The goat just yards away bleets and she glares at it.

Anarchaia fidgets as she looks for a comfortable spot to sit that won’t get her new robes dirty. She lifts a palm to an empty space and in a flash of sparkles her worn beanbag chair appears. She sets herself in it and continues licking idly at the frosting on her cake. “I could get you something else. Toast? Pancakes? I know where the kitchens keep their produce…”

Kel’ori’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Oh! Um… I don’t want to impose, but… Just something light, maybe? A snack?”

Taveth takes a glass of ice water and sits himself casually on a small edge of the beanbag chair. “I told you the cakes were a bad idea. Drink some water, it’ll help.”

Kel’ori leans over and takes a water from the tray, but shoots her brother a dirty look all the same.

Alisbeth sits beside Grimory and leans a head on his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Tastes fine to me,” Grimory adds quietly as though he cannot help adding his opinion but is sure no one cares. He smiles at the woman on his shoulder when she rests against him. “Hey.”

Snuffles takes the opportunity to turn and skitter into Alisbeth’s head where it makes iself comfortable amongst her locks.

Alisbeth giggles and reaches up to tickle along the marsuul’s side. “You silly thing!”

The animal chitters in alarm and claws at Alisbeth’s invading fingers.

Grimory holds out the remaining bite of his cake to Alisbeth. “Want some?” he says, half joking, then jerks and purses his lips when the marsuul snatches it up and makes short work of it, leaving crumbs in Alisbeth’s hair.

Alisbeth laughs as crumbs rain into her face. She pinches her eyes closed and pets Snuffles. “Who’s my little cake snatcher? Do you want more cakes?”

Anarchaia scoots over a bit to give Taveth more room and upturns a palm; it fills with a small plate stacked with shortbread spread with creamed cheese and a sprinkling of chives. “Oh. This was supposed to be finger sandwiches. It must be near lunch. Oh well.” The plate floats and finds its way to Kel’ori’s lap.

Taveth smiles at the mage and adjusts his narrow frame beside her. “You’re so accomodating,” he says with a laugh.

Kel’ori looks at the plate in her lap with a look of defeat the other mage can’t see. She picks up one of the squares and bite tentatively into the side. Her face pinches. “I’m…not a chive fan,” she says, but eats one anyway.

“Big enough for both of us,” the undead girl says with a smile, then gives Kel’ori a half-lidded stare. “What _are_ you a fan of? Apples? Meat rations? Dried bananas?” She takes one last lick of her cake before sending it floating to the critter on Alisbeth’s head; it happily snatches and makes messy work of it.

“I do like apples and _candied_ bananas,” Kel’ori says. “Meat _rations_ are too tough. I like the bacon they have on the Vindicar.” She takes a shuddering bite of another shortbread and coughs as her throat tries to return the previous one. “I’ll be fine,” she squeaks.

Anarchaia purses her lips, clearly not buying it. She conjures an apple and tosses it to the girl while the tray in her lap disappears. “I’d get you weird Argus bacon but I don’t feel right stealing…without permission.”

Kel’ori looks at her now empty fingers, then catches the apple before it hits her in the face. “Oh. Thank you. Really, you didn’t have to.” She bites intot he apple and forces herself to not cringe as a sandy texture and bland taste swirl into her mouth. She manages to smile. “You really didn’t have to.”

Anarchaia purses her lips and gives up. She folds her arms and brings a cup of water to herself to drink.

Grimory does his best to pull some of the frosting from Alisbeth’s hair, scowling when Snuffles tries to bite him as he does so. “Stop it. I’m not playing.”

Alisbeth giggles and manages to get a gob of frosting on her finger to swipe onto the tip of Grimory’s nose.

Grimory grunts in annoyance, then leans down to squish his nose against hers, grabbing her by the front of her armor so she can’t squirm away.

Alisbeth squeals and jerks her head back, causing the marsuul to scramble frantically and dig its claws into her scalp and forehead. The death knight screams and yanks at the critter with one hand as she pushes Grimory away with the other.

Grimory blinks and pulls away. He grabs the animal from her head and replaces it on his head. He sighs and wipes the frosting from his nose with the back of a hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles then flinches when Snuffles, still hyper with excitement, bites his ear.

Alisbeth frowns deeply at him and shoves herself under his arm. “Don’t be said. Please.”

Grimory can’t restrain a chuckle and drapes an arm over her shoulders. “I’m not sad. Just didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Alisbeth giggles. “You didn’t hurt me, silly! Snarfblat did. I just scared him, is all. Am I bleeding?”

Grimory examines her scalp and shakes his head. “Just a few scratches. I think you’ll live…heh. I mean…you know what I mean.”

“I’ll unlive?” Alisbeth asks, grinning.

Grimory chuckles again and fixes her hair. “Yes you’ll—_damnit stop biting me!_” He flicks Snuffles in the ear and it squeaks and bites at his knuckles instead.

Alisbeth grabs the marsuul and pulls it to her chest, holding it tightly in her grasp. “You knock that off, you ornery little brat! I will feed you to that goat, you hear me?”

Snuffles squeaks again in defiance and kicks its legs.

Grimory smiles. “Makes me miss Diori,” he says quietly enough for the two of them to hear.

Alisbeth smiles, her eyes lighting up. “I miss her, too. I bet she’d love Shuffles!”

The Illidari nods. “Yeah. She would. I…don’t know if we can bring him back with us, though.”

Alisbeth makes a face. “I’ll hide him in my bag.” She squishes her cheek to Snuggles and rubs her face up and down.

Grimory gives a sad chuckle and shakes his head. “No I mean I don’t think we have the means to take care of him there. Azeroth isn’t his home.”


	24. Chapter 24

Anarchaia watches the two at the far end of their group and sips her water. She clears her throat. “Anyone have any plans after we’re done here? Heh.”

Kel’ori sighs. “Graduate.”

Taveth chuckles. “Go where I’m sent?”

Koltira smirks and leans close to the mage to whisper. “Take you home.”

Anarchaia bites her lip at the death knight beside her. “What a gentleman.” She casts a solemn glance to Kel’ori. “I’m sorry about the grades thing. I’ll do my best to catch up on my work so that can happen for you.” She frowns. “Though…I doubt the same could be said for me.”

Kel’ori nods. “It’s okay. I’m sure I can do some extra credit work.”

Taveth leans in on the mage’s other side. “If only you had someone with vast amounts of time and intellectual resources who could help you with that work.”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “No, I’ll finish. I mean I’ll not be the one graduating.” She looks at Taveth and lifts her eyebrows. “Are you insinuating that you’ll help me with research? Or possibly…” She lowers her voice. “…_cheat?_”

Taveth sits upright and stares at her with forced indignance. “_Cheating?_” he hisses. “Well, I never! What sort of elf do you think I am?”

Anarchaia blinks then smirks. “A generous, kind, _super intelligent_ one?”

Taveth sets a haughty palm to his chest. “It will take a _lot_ more than compliments to win me over, madam.”

Koltira chuckles and leans to whisper in Anarchaia’s ear. “Naked Grimory illusions?”

Anarchaia places her fingertips over her lips in an attempt to stifle her laugh. She gives Taveth an inquisitive grin. “Oh? Like what? There’s very little I can’t get my hands on…”

Taveth chuckles. “Not much I can’t get, either,” he says quietly. “I’m sure you’re brilliant enough to think of something.”

Anarchaia scrunches her face. “Not sure I have enough to give that’s proportional to the amount of work I need to do.” She chuckles. “But I’ll draw up a list and you can help if you want. Heh.”

Taveth shrugs. “I trust you to make the right choices.”

Kel’ori huffs and throws the barely nibbled apple, then stands and dusts herself off. “I’m continuing, okay? You don’t have to come with me, but I’m getting to that place and I’m going to see if they have real food that wasn’t stolen from yesterday’s garbage.” She stomps off, her jaw locked in determination.

Anarchaia perks, then scowls and stands. “It was an apple. From a tree.” She waits for Taveth to stand and sends away both the chair and the table. “She’s so hot and cold,” she mutters, following.

Grimory notices the others leaving and takes Alisbeth’s hand to follow.

Alisbeth stands and stumbles to Grimory’s side, her hand gripped in his and her arm still wrapped around the marsuul. “He just eats cakes and meat, right? We have that on Azeroth.”

Grimory ponders for a second. “The environment is a tad different, yeah? But…worth a try. If you’re that set on bringing him with.”

Snuffles chews on Alisbeth’s armguard.

Alisbeth pulls on the crests on the marsuul’s neck. “No! That’s metal, that’ll hurt your teefies! Grim, do you have any meat rations? I bet he’s just hungry.”

Grimory nods and pulls a strip of dried meat from the pack at his hip. He tears it into smaller pieces and hands one over to the rodent. It happily accepts and the meat is gone in seconds. The demon hunter hands Alisbeth the remaining pieces to feed it herself.

Taveth nods. “She’s been very moody today… Though I can’t say I much blame her.”

“I’m not sure what’s worse. Her complaining and moodiness, or _his_ complete lack of…anything Grim,” Koltira says.

Anarchaia frowns and pulls her mask back down. “I don’t particularly blame her, either.” She sighs and leans her shoulder on Koltira’s arm as they walk. <<I may be biased, but I’m starting to feel worse for Grim. At least Kel’ori gets all the coddling she needs. Grim gets…being called a monster and forced to hold your hand.>>

Koltira’s mouth drops open. “Excuse me, but did you just put holding my hand on the same level as being called a monster?”

Anarchaia flinches and looks up at him. “N-no! I’m saying that for _him_ it may be!”

Kel’ori looks behind her, half afraid the others didn’t follow. She stops and her mouth drops open as she sees Alisbeth feeding the critter. “Perfectly good meat…to a smelly Argus rat.” Her mouth waters and her stomach groans, reminding her of her unsatisfying snacks. She turns back around and continues trudging forward through the canyon.

Taveth cringes. “I will feel bad about controlling him for pretty much the rest of my life, thank you. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Anarchaia throws her hands up and scoffs in frustration, then stomps on ahead to follow Kel’ori. “Guess I’m just a huge bitch, then,” she grumbles to herself.

~ * ~

After another hour or so the party comes to a barricade where demons stand at the base of the sharp incline, hitting walls of light with weapons and blasting them with spells. The group steps within the area to find bustling Draenei and adventurers procuring supplies and repairing barricades.

Grimory stops a well adorned paladin. “Hey. We’re here to assist—”

“Oh, thank Light,” the woman says. “We have yet to send a team to sanctify the fallen in the surrounding grounds and gather the missing parts to construct more warframes.” She grabs the demon hunter by the arm and directs him toward the path leading down the steep hill. “Go!”

Grimory purses his lips and knits his brow but allows her to push him. “Right.”

The paladin pushes a crystalline pendant into his palm before releasing him. “Just use this on any fallen soldiers you see! Good luck, you lot!”

Koltira blinks as the woman bustles away. “She seems…determined.”

Another Draenei beckons the group over. “Travelers!” he says. “I imagine you have all been aboard the Vindicaar, yes? You’ve spoken with Romuul?”

Anarchaia nods. “We have. Why?”

“Great! Would you mind helping us place a beacon here? None of our homing devices made the trip down here.”

Anarchaia looks at Grimory who tiredly steps forward and pulls a small device from his pack. He hands it over to the Draenei man who instructs the engineer of the coordinates. Not long after, a beam of light pierces the sky and a teleportation pad crashes into the earth at its base. It unfurls like a blooming flower and hums with energy.

Kel’ori rushes eagerly to the pad. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get some lunch.” She disappears in a flash of light.

The draenei smiles at those remaining. “Thank you, friends. Now High Exarch Turalyon, Prophet Velen, and Illidan may join us here. Eh, you wouldn’t mind relaying the message, would you?”

Taveth smiles kindly. “Actually, I would be happy to. I could use a small bite of food myself.” He looks to the other three. “I’ll try to be fast.” He steps into the beacon and is soon gone.

Koltira scowls. “Downsides to traveling with the living.”

Grimory purses his lips at the death knight and sighs. _I’m pretty hungry as well…but I can’t bring myself to be in the same room as her. Even if Taveth is there._

Anarchaia opens two portals: one back to the hovel and another to the Vindicaar. “I’ll grab the High Exarch if someone else wants to get Illidan and Velen.” She frowns at Grimory. “Aren’t you hungry? I didn’t see you eat this morning…”

The demon hunter sighs. “No, _Greatmother Ana_, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern but I’m pretty capable of taking care of myself.”

Alisbeth frowns at the demon hunter. “Come on. Let’s go eat! I bet Spatula would love more food.” She puckers her lips and speaks incomprehensible phrases of praise to the marsuul as she scratches under its chin.

Taveth finds Illidan and Velen by the console and informs each that the beacon has been placed. The Prophet thanks the man with a familiar smile and a kind pat on the shoulder; Illidan merely grunts and turns to select his destination on the map before disappearing. The elf decides to stop in the cafeteria to get something for the road, but stops when he sees Kel’ori weeping over a steak as she halfheartedly tries to cut it. He stands over her and gives the meat an odd look. “Something wrong with your steak?”

“Yes,” she whines, “it’s not bacon.”

“Are they out?”

“It’s only served at breakfast. No exceptions.” She gets a piece free and slowly puts it in her mouth. She begins chewing, tears still streaming from her eyes. “This isn’t too bad.”

Taveth sighs. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get myself something.”

Grimory fidgets. “I’m…sure we could find something for him while we’re out.”

The creature gives a purr of approval at the chin scratches, then scratches and bites playfully at Grimory’s finger when he tries to do the same.

The demon hunter flinches as the beacon hums to life and Velen gracefully steps off, followed by Illidan. Grimory immediately pulls his finger away from the marsuul and straightens. The demon lord regards him with a scoff and merely continues on down the incline to speak with the head of the head of the blockade.

A minute or so later both Anarchaia and Turalyon step through the portal she’d made. The High Exarch gives her a smile accompanied by a pat on the back and a word of gratitude. He sweeps his hair from an eye to notice Velen and goes to him.

The mage flushes and chuckles embarrassedly before sighing and resting on a heel. “Guess we wait for those two.”

Alisbeth scowls. “No, we don’t wait.” She shoves the marsuul at Grimory and stomps through the portal to the Vindicar just as it closes. She ignores her cousins and goes for the counter where all the meat is being displayed. “Give me one of each.”

The draenei laughs. “Never had the pleasure of serving one of your kind. Do you even eat?” He collects all the items onto a tray.

“We don’t. Because we’re dead. Can I get that in a…portable option?”

He wraps the items individually in napkins and places them in a small sack. Alisbeth pays and stomps past her cousins again.

Taveth eyes the death knight. “Well, now everyone’s moody. Are you nearly finished?” He eyes Kel’ori’s half steak.

She gives him an innocent look over her stuffed cheeks. When she speaks it comes out as muffled nonsense.

Taveth cringes. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m going to head back and chat with Velen a little.” He picks up his own sack of travel-worthy food. “I recommend you get something you can put in your pack. You’re awful when you’re hungry.”

She makes a rude gesture as he heads back up to the main deck.

Alisbeth reappears at Destiny Point, screaming and clutching the bag. After a moment to catch her breath, she stomps over to Grimory and shoves the bag at him while taking Snuffles back into her own arms. “Quit being a stubborn asshole,” she says through teeth grit in pain.

Grimory blinks as the sack is shoved into his arms, then scowls. “I said I was fine, yeah? That wasn’t necessary. This won’t all fit in my pack.” He pauses to reflect on his tone. “But I’m grateful nonetheless. Thank you, Ali.”

Anarchaia purses her lips at the confrontation in front of her and steps forward to rest a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder. “Uh, Ali? Could I speak with you for a second? Alone? Heh.”

Alisbeth frowns, his thanks and Anarchaia’s request falling on deaf ears. “I just want you to be happy again.” A tear rolls from one eye as she sets the marsuul on the ground and runs to the other end of the camp.

Koltira cringes. “Uh, go ahead, Ana. I’ll wait here for the others.”

Taveth appears, nibbling on a strange vegetable. His brow furrows. “Aww, what now?”

“Nothing,” the undead mage sighs to Taveth and runs after Alisbeth, careful not to trip over divots in the soil. “Ali, wait!”

Grimory merely sighs and finds the nearest rock to sit on. He sets the pack of meat down and Snuffles honors its namesake by nosing the creases. The demon hunter hunches over to place his face in his hands. _Me, too._

Koltira stands over the demon hunter and sighs. “Just let her take care of you. She likes it…and you seem to need it—the attention, I mean.”

Kel’ori appears a few moments later and sways. Her face falls and she closes her eyes as she teeters.

Taveth puts himself under her arm so she doesn’t stumble or fall. “You okay?”

“Oh, wow, you were right. That made me so dizzy. Probably ate a _little_ too much.” She giggles a little.

Grimory shoots the death knight a glare. “I’ll be the judge of what I need and don’t, thanks.” He pushes his face back into his hands. “I can take care of myself,” he repeats quietly.

Alisbeth stops and lets the mage reach her. “What am I doing wrong?” she demands.

Anarchaia sighs and sets a hand on her shoulder again as she nears. “_Nothing,_ Ali. He’s just…very stubborn.” She frowns. “And… Kolt and I—well…_I_ am worried he may do…something…stupid. So, we just need to give him what he needs right now, okay? Whether it be space or compassion or just a hug.” She pauses. “And maybe lay off on the insults a tad…”

Alisbeth wipes at her cheeks and sets her jaw stubbornly. “He’s being an asshole. He wants space? Fine. I’ll stay on this side and he can stay over there, and I won’t talk to him ever again.” She folds her arms and turns her back to the mage.

Koltira glares right back. “Maybe it’s not actually about if _you_ can take care of yourself or not.” He turns and strides away. _Selfish bastard._

Kel’ori straightens. “Thanks for catching me, Tav.” She looks around and grimaces. “Why so much _drama?_”

Taveth’s brow lowers. “Oh, please. You’re the worst with the drama.”

“Oh, so this is about Alisbeth,” Grimory snaps, looking back up. “Because she’s suffering so much from a bit of _attitude_. A bit of _space_.” He scowls and turns back away. “Right. I’m a monster.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen slightly and she lifts her hands. “No! That’s the opposite of what he needs. He just…” She sighs. “Look, Ali. I’ve heard rumors that when demons die here, they die for good. You wouldn’t want Grim to…_do something_ to himself, would you?”

Alisbeth scoffs. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I should just go back to Dalaran.” She turns around, a look on her face as though she’s just had an epiphany. “That’s what I’m going to do! Thanks, Ariba. You’re so helpful!” She hugs the mage and strides for the beacon with a wistful smile.

Anarchaia blinks, then chases after her frantically. “Ali, wait! That’s not going to help!” She stumbles on a heel and hisses. “He still needs your support!”

Alisbeth spins, her smile gone. “He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want _me._” Her tears renew and she continues to the beacon.

Taveth looks around helplessly. “Guys, come on! An entire planet is in jeopardy and you’re squabbling over kindness!” He throws his hands up in the air. “You know what. I’ll continue. _I_ care about the planet we happen to live on!”

Kel’ori scampers after him as he stomps past Alisbeth. “I-I care, too! I’ll help keep you safe.”

Koltira rolls his eyes skyward. “Gods help me, that tiny bastard is going to get himself killed.” He casts Grimory one last look of pity and strides away. “Wait for me. I’ll make sure you idiots don’t die.”

Anarchaia grits her teeth and glares after Taveth. “Ali, this isn’t about you. Or me. And I assure you he does. When has he ever been obvious about what he wants?” She narrows her eyes. “…outside the bedroom.”

Grimory sighs and stands to follow when the others are a considerable distance away, bag of meat in hand. Snuffles bounds after, leaping at the sack when it’s close enough to do so.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I know when I’m not wanted. You think I don’t notice how you look at me? I don’t need to see your face to know you’re doing it. He has the same look in his eyes when I try to do something for him.” She turns away, then turns back. “He already asked me to…” She falls into hysterical sobbing and covers her face with her hands.

Anarchaia knits her brow and squares her shoulders. “Ali, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re my _friend._ You think I’d go through all the trouble it takes to keep you safe in Dalaran? To pay for a private room just for you?” She immediately grabs her by the shoulders when the death knight begins sobbing. “He asked you to what?” she asks quietly after a second, almost afraid of the answer.

“I won’t do it,” Alisbeth says, wiping her eyes. “I don’t care what Spinewing does to me, I won’t…” She throws herself on the mage to cry on her shoulder. “He’s strong enough to resist, right?”

Anarchaia bites her lip and furrows her brow. “He really asked that of you?” She scowls as she rubs Alisbeth’s back with a palm. “It’s okay. It won’t come to that with Taveth around. And if it does, Kolt or I will handle it. Okay?” She slowly steers her toward the path to follow the others.

Alisbeth nods and sniffs. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

Anarchaia sobers and sighs. “It’s…fine. Let’s catch up with the others.”

Taveth smiles up at Koltira. “Thanks for joining us.”

“You’re my friends, I’m not going to let you do something stupid.”

Snuffles leaps at the bag again and Grimory, annoyed, plucks the critter from the air and sets it on his shoulder.

Taveth turns back to smile at the demon hunter, silently happy to see him joining them, even though his disposition hasn’t changed.

Grimory catches the smile but looks away to busy himself with an advancing felhound. It cries out as it’s set aflame and runs only a few feet before collapsing, burning.

Taveth stops and stares into a small area. Just inside is a piece of the machine—past a few eredari, two dogs, and a nathrazim banelord, leaving purple smoke in his wake as he paces, stretching his green wings. “Well…inconvenient.”

Koltira cracks his knuckles. “I got this.” He runs to the center of the area, shouting to draw attention. As the demons near, he sends out purple tendrils to drag them all to him and into the red ring he’s thrown onto the ground beneath himself.

Grimory follows, claws at the ready but less fervor in his tired eyes. He catches one of the spellcasters as she’s pulled through the air, lifting a clawed hand to disembowel her before she can reach Koltira’s ring of decay. He squints against the blood that sprays him in the face and the marsuul immediately sets to work cleaning his cheek with its tongue.

Tears still covering her face, Alisbeth runs into the group of demons and starts hitting them recklessly, swinging her axe through the air.

Taveth runs past and grabs the requested part. He grunts and carries it back. “We can’t carry these around. Too big and too heavy. Ana, could you send it back up to Destiny Point?”

Kel’ori scoffs. “I exist, too, you know.”

“Did you want to—”

“Nope. You already asked Ana.” She spreads her fingers to build an arcane blast between them, but a ball of orange sparks flickers in the air between them instead. She growls and shakes out her hands to try again, but the sparks return. She shakes her head and throws the ball anyway, but it pops and hisses, then fizzles out just before reaching the demons.

Koltira, distracted by the little orange ball, doesn’t see the flat of the Maw careening toward his face. He grunts loudly and falls to the ground, a hand on his cheek. Alisbeth pauses to stare at him, then returns to beating the demons as though they’d personally done her harm.

Grimory dodges a blast of fel fire from one of the demons and retaliates with a sigil of flame beneath the thick of the group. It explodes and the felhounds left over from Alisbeth’s attacks yelp and run off. He turns and a second ball of fel fire drills him in the side. He growls and throws up a shield of magic warding before the third can reach him.

Anarchaia nods to Taveth and sends the item back to camp, secretly rolling her eyes at Kel’ori. She steps toward the action just in time to see Koltira fall and jerks in surprise before running over, ducking beneath a ball of fire. “Are you all right?! Ali, watch where you’re swinging!”

Alisbeth kicks the nearest dog as hard as she can, caving in the ribs on one side as it cries out. She purses her lips at the mage. “It was an accident.”

“It’s fine,” Koltira says, looking at the destruction as the last demon falls. He releases his cheek to look at the blood on his glove. “Just a small scratch.”

Anarchaia helps him up the best her meager muscles can and scowls beneath her mask. “Accidents are caused by negligence. I’m sure she’d be distraught if it’d been Grim she hit.” She conjures a damp rag to push against his cheek.

Grimory kicks at the head of the final spellcaster as she weakly reaches for his boot and she falls limp. He sighs at the lack of satisfaction and wanders over to a fallen soldier. He pulls the crystal pendant from his pouch and light from it showers the corpse before a spectral visage lifts from the body and into the sky.

Koltira shakes his head as he holds the cloth over his cheek. “It’s fine. Really.”

Kel’ori stubbornly continues trying to get a spell to work, but only comes up with orange sparks. She frowns and drops her hands. “Ever hear of a mage being too sad to use magic?” she asks Anarchaia with a frown.

Anarchaia purses her lips up at him. “Shush and let me take care of you.” She turns to Kel’ori as though startled by her presence. She gives a comforting smile. “Yes, actually. Maybe just think of something that makes you really happy?” Her smile broadens. “Maybe Master Kalec? Or even Gil?”

Kel’ori blushes. “Oh, heh. I suppose I can try that.” She holds out her hands and keeps trying to get the sparks to ignite into an arcane blast.

Taveth sets his hand on her shoulder. “You can do it, Kel.”

The sparks grow the smallest bit, then explode. She squeaks as it stings her palms. “Practice, I guess.” She frowns at her hands.

Alisbeth frowns. “It really, really was an accident. I wouldn’t hit you back—hit you on purpose. I…am sorry.” She slowly gets quieter until she ends up staring at her feet.

Koltira nods. “I wasn’t looking. It’s okay.”

Anarchaia bristles. She purses her lips at the death knights. _It’s not okay! What if she’d_ accidentally _struck you with the edge?! You wouldn’t have a head!_ “Let’s just get a move on. Maybe you just need some rest, Kel’ori. Keep at it.” She sets a reassuring hand on the other mage’s shoulder and walks on ahead to catch up with Grimory, eager to keep him in sight.

The demon hunter finds another fallen soldier and releases her spirit as well. It swirls into the sky and Snuffles gives a quiet, apprehensive whine at the sight.

The group moves slowly as demons come at them from all directions. The next piece they find in a tall fel tower; Anarchaia sends it back to Destiny Point with the other. Kel’ori spots the final piece under an overhanging cliff, surrounded by broken carriages and other hints at a former civilization. As Koltira rushes in to collect the few demons in the area, Kel’ori steps forward.

She smiles at the arcane blast in her palm, ignoring the orange color of it. “My magic is back!” She smiles at the other mage. “I’ll get this piece.” She blinks forward, her body simmering out of existence.

Taveth purses his lips as the mage doesn’t appear yards ahead as she should have. “Kel? _Kel!_” He runs past the three fighting the demons to where the mage should have been, but being closer still proves her to be gone.

Anarchaia watches from the corner of her eye as this happens, then furrows her brow and follows Taveth with a rush in her step. “Wh-…what happened? Where’d she go?”


	25. Chapter 25

The other three make short work of the remaining demons until they’re nothing more than blood, pulp, and dismembered appendages on the soaked dirt floor. Grimory perks and looks over. “What’s going on?” he asks tiredly.

Taveth runs to the rock wall. “I’ve heard of mages…getting stuck. Can-can you check? Is there a way to check?” He steps back and sets his hands together to form a fel green eye, which he drops to the ground. The eye takes off up the hill, zipping side to side, searching for the high elf.

Anarchaia shakes her head. “That’s only a myth. Heh.”

Taveth’s ear twitches to acknowledge hearing her. He opens his eyes and drops his hands. “She’s just…gone.” He drops onto the flat surface of a destroyed crate. “I’m staying here. I’ll wait for her. You can all continue on, but I’m going to wait for her to return.” His brow furrows in worry. _If she ever comes back…_

Alisbeth frowns and sits beside him. She leans her head on his shoulder. “I’m waiting, too.”

Koltira purses his lips and looks to Anarchaia and Grimory for any indication of their choice to stay or go, unsure which he wants to do, himself.

Anarchaia sighs and lifts her robes to drop to her knees and place her hands in her lap. “I’ll wait as well.”

Grimory hesitates, then turns on the direction they’d been going to find more fallen soldiers to sanctify. He pauses when he hears Anarchaia’s voice calling for him to stay in sight, then grumbles and continues on. “Yes, mother.”

Alisbeth watches Grimory, hands twitching as she resists going to him. Instead she pulls a cloth from her pack and begins cleaning the spikes of the Maw.

Taveth fidgets, then pulls out his personal journal and begins scribbling frantically away.

Anarchaia fidgets as well with her fingers. “Perhaps she just teleported on accident instead.” She watches Grimory’s head of bright blond hair from the corner of her eye as he sanctifies another soldier. “It happens. Heh.”

Taveth purses his lips. “But why wouldn’t she come right back?”

“Maybe she accidentally teleported again? Heh. Maybe she doesn’t remember the terrain here…” She frowns apprehensively.

“Has this sort of thing happened before?” Koltira asks. “So we know what to expect or how long we’re going to be waiting until it’s sorted out…” He scratches at the dried blood over his injury from the Maw.

The mage shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of, anyway.” She scrunches her face and reaches up to pull on his elbow. “Don’t pick at it.”

Koltira makes a face at the mage. “It itches.”

Anarchaia makes the same face back. “I don’t care. If I see you scratching it again, I’ll do…something.” She waves a hand to indicate she has no clue what the _something_ may be.

Koltira narrows his eyes and leans away, then reaches up to scratch at the wound again.

Anarchaia scoffs at his indignance and grabs his elbow again, pulling it down so he cannot use the arm. “I’ll conjure cuffs if I have to, Deathweaver.”

Koltira chuckles. “Are you threatening me, or seducing me?”

Taveth blushes and clears his throat as he scribbles away in his book.

Anarchaia looks at Taveth as though just remembering his existence, then purses her lips up at the death knight and lowers her voice. “I won’t make it enjoyable.”

Koltira leans to her with a sly, daring grin. “Good luck with that.”

Anarchaia blushes, still painfully aware of Taveth’s presence. “I’m sure I could find something.” She holds onto his elbow nonetheless.

Koltira leans close to speak low enough for only her. “Like what?”

Alisbeth squirms as she watches the demon hunter drift farther and farther away. Finally, she jumps to her feet and runs after him, slamming into his back and wrapping her arms tightly around him. She presses her nose into his spine. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please stop hating me.”

Grimory jerks as she grabs him and Snuffles crawls down onto Alisbeth’s head. The Illidari furrows his brow and lifts an arm to look back at her. “Hate you? Ali, I don’t _hate_ you. I couldn’t…”

Alisbeth frowns as she looks at him. “But…why not?”

Grimory’s face softens. “Because I don’t.” He pries her arms away to turn and hug her. “I’m just…I don’t know. Tired.”

Alisbeth takes the demon hunter’s cheeks in her palms. “You need sleep, silly.” She slides her hands down his front, then reaches around to take his hands and pull him back toward the others. “Come. We’ll make a camp, with a fire and everything. And you can sleep.”

Grimory follows and sighs. “No, I mean I’m _tired_. Of everything. Of fighting. Nothing…” He pauses and decides to swallow the rest of the words. “Maybe rest is a good idea.”

Alisbeth swallows away the knot forming in her throat and forces herself to continue smiling at him. “It is a good idea. You’ll see. You’ll feel so much better after you sleep.”

Grimory follows quietly, then falls to sit near but away from the others. He brings his knees up to rest his elbows on them and remains silent.

Alisbeth forces her smile to remain as she drags wood into a pile near the demon hunter. She swallows the knot back down again and looks down at him. “Did you want one now, or later?”

Grimory smiles up at her, exhausted in all ways one can be. “Now is fine. It’s actually getting kind of chilly. Heh. Must be close to dusk.”

Anarchaia does the same with her tone and narrows her eyes. “Like tie you up in bed and leave you there.”

Koltira narrows his eyes. “Without even a little slap? Nothing? Bed of nails, maybe?”

Anarchaia smirks. “Nope. Nothing. Maybe I’ll just sit and watch you squirm. Nude, of course—”

Alisbeth nods and goes to tap the mage on the shoulder. “Arya, can you light a fire for Grim?” she asks, her forced grin still on her face, though her brow is slowly furrowing.

She jumps at the tap and looks, her face scarlet. “O-oh! Of course. Heh.” She lifts a hand and the tinder explodes into flames, then offers both Alisbeth and Grimory a smile.

“Thanks,” the demon hunter mutters and gives a wry smile in return.

Once the fire is lit and Alisbeth has retreated, Koltira pulls the mage’s attention back to him. “You really think you could just sit there and watch me?” He wraps a hand high on her ribs, but realizes there is no discreet way to touch her inappropriately.

Anarchaia inhales, face still warm with embarrassment. She bites her lip and hums a quiet laugh in her throat. “I bet I could,” she says and covers his hand with hers, slowly urging it up a centimeter or two. “I’m a very patient girl.”

Koltira gets slowly closer to her face. “I don’t think patience would be your problem,” he says. When his face reaches hers, he pauses, the sends his nose to the side of her neck to delicately trace all the way up to her jaw as he smells her perfume. Then, suddenly, he sobers, releases her, and stands. “I’m going to go keep watch. Tav, might as well rest while you can.”

The high elf gives a single nod, but returns to his writing.

Anarchaia closes her eyes, enjoying the closeness, then blinks when he pulls away. She scowls and folds her arms. “Oh, you insufferable…”

“I saw a nice hiding place on the way in here, so, if you need me, say something,” he looks right at the mage, “because you won’t be able to see inside.”

Anarchaia purses her lips and furrows her brow at him. She glances at the trio behind her and hesitates, then stretches and stands. “Perhaps I should accompany you. What if something were to happen to you? No one would know, then.” She trots after him with a smile.

Koltira smirks as he leads the mage to just below the hidden spot in the cliff’s face. He turns to look down at her. “I must warn you, it can get boring keeping watch. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Anarchaia grins. “Bored? With you? I can’t think of anything I’d rather—” She pauses at the sound of Taveth’s yelling, head cocked in that direction. She then bites her lip and giggles. “Poor Tav.”

~~

Alisbeth sits a small way from Grimory and pulls off the armor from one thigh. She pats the leather of her pants. “Lay down?” She fights back the scream pushing the knot back up into her throat and holds her breath against the shallow breaths her lungs want to take.

The Illidari smiles and does as he’s offered, lying to rest his head on her thigh. Snuffles leans over Alisbeth’s shoulder to reach as far as its neck will allow, sniffing at the demon hunter’s face. Grimory presses a finger to the animal’s nose and pushes it back up and away.

She reaches up to scratch the top of Snuffles’s nose as she rests her other hand on Grimory’s chest, feeling his heartbeat and letting it calm her. “Do you need to sleep, too, Scuttles?”

Snuffles squeaks and bites at her ear in response and the demon hunter chuckles.

Alisbeth hisses and bats at the marsuul. “You naughty little rat! Stop biting!” She finds the sack of meats and pulls out a small steak for him, then tosses it a short distance from herself.

Snuffles cries out in excitement and leaps from Alisbeth’s shoulder before the meat even hits the dirt. It immediately digs into the soft steak.

Grimory rolls his eyes at the conversation between Anarchaia and Koltira above his head. “I hope something happens to _both_ of you,” he grumbles and tilts his head to rest a horn on Alisbeth’s stomach.

Alisbeth purses her lips down at him the demon hunter as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Are you jealous of them? Would you like me to do something for you?”

“I am literally _right here_, you guys. All of you. _No one is fooled!_” Taveth finishes his minor fit and slams his journal closed.

Both Grimory and Snuffles blink at the angry elf. The latter resumes its meal and Grimory gives a quiet laugh. “Not like I was gonna say _yes_. Don’t get your panties in a bundle.”

“I was just offering,” Alisbeth says with a giggle.

Grimory smiles and reaches up to pat her on the cheek. “You’re kind for doing so,” he laughs.

Taveth grumbles but says nothing.

She continues threading her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. “Sleep, now. Okay? We’ll be quiet for you. Right, Tav?”

Taveth nods as he leans back against the side of a cracked barrel Alisbeth hadn’t grabbed for the fire.

Grimory inhales, long and slow, then closes his eyes and folds his hands over his stomach. “I’ll try.” He furrows his brow as Kel’ori’s face immediately fades into his mind’s eye, but he keeps his eyes closed. _Not that I deserve to._

~~

Koltira chuckles. “He’ll live.” He hoists Anarchaia into the small alcove and climbs in after her. “Hmm, just enough space.”

Anarchaia smiles and dangles her legs over the edge. “Just big enough for what?” She picks up a pebble and throws it out and onto the path.

Koltira wraps his arm around the mage’s waist and drags her backward out of view. “Like you don’t know.”

Anarchaia chuckles into the backs of her fingers and looks up at him as she leans back. “So we’re not going to be bored together, hm?”

Koltira chuckles. “Unless you really had your heart set on that.”

“Mm. Not particularly.” She chuckles in return and pulls him closer.

~ * ~

The sky had darkened to a barely perceivable night and the air had grown colder. Taveth sits near the fire, curled tightly into himself to stay warm. Grimory, head still propped on Alisbeth’s thigh as he sleeps, doesn’t even shudder against the chill, with Snuffles curled up and sleeping on his broad chest. The death knight doesn’t take her eyes from him—watching as though he might disappear if she looks away.

The air pulses around them and with a crack and a rain of snow, Kel’ori bursts into the area, shaking so hard she can barely stand. She drops down beside the fire and holds her shaking hands out, her bluing lips shuddering with her shivers.

“_Kel!_” Taveth screams, throwing himself over her in relief. He brushes the quickly melting snow from her shoulders and helps undo her soaked cloak.

Grimory jerks awake at the sound and sits up. Snuffles squeaks as it spills into his lap. He glances around frantically, then relaxes and runs a hand through his hair and sighs with relief but does not show his relief otherwise. “Good. She’s not dead,” he mumbles and groggily sets Snuffles aside.

Anarchaia, curled into Koltira’s side as they look out over the land from their alcove, perks at the familiar sound of teleportation followed by Taveth’s happy cry of relief. She smiles over at him. “Guess she found her way back.”

Koltira gives a light groan and holds the mage tighter for a moment. “I guess that means we have to get going.”

Anarchaia inhales slowly and pushes her face into his chest as she’s taken to doing. “I _guess_.” She then leans up to kiss him before sitting up to scoot out of the alcove.

Koltira leaps from the alcove and holds his hands out for the undead woman. “If only time could stop for us.”

Instead of taking his hands for assistance, Anarchaia pushes off the wall below to leap into his arms. She chuckles. “I’m not allowed to use time magic, or I’d try.”

“What happened?” Taveth asks.

Kel’ori swallows and clenches her jaw, trying to calm her shaking enough to speak. “I d-don’t know. I b-blinked f-f-f-forward and…then I was in R-Redridge.”

Alisbeth frowns. “It’s been hours.”

Grimory parts his lips to speak, then decides against it and lies back in Alisbeth’s lap.

The mage regards her cousin with a blank stare. “I c-couldn’t get back.”

“Why?” Taveth asks.

“I don’t know. I just…b-bounced around Azeroth for a while, then s-stopped to regain my s-strength a few times.” She winces and blows hot breath against her fingertip. “Then I ended up in Dun Morogh. I was s-stuck within the borders f-for…I don’t know.”

Snuffles makes its way to Kel’ori, seemingly interested by her sudden appearance. It licks at the frost on her elbow.

“I…don’t understand,” Taveth says. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she whimpers, too exhausted to cry. “I tried to conjure a heavier cloak and I got a pineapple… I don’t have pineapples in my room… But I was hungry, so I ate it.”

The other mage perks as they near, then runs forward. “Oh my gods, Kel’ori. What _happened?_” She conjures a thick fur to throw over the woman’s shoulders, causing the marsuul to chirp and skitter off before it can be covered as well. The fire grows in size. “Where did you go?”

“Everywhere,” she whines.

Alisbeth sits in silent contemplation for a long time, then furrows her brow. “But…where did the pineapple come from?”

The Nighthearts stare at her, dumbfounded.

Anarchaia joins in the staring before sighing and kneeling to rest a palm on Kel’ori’s back. “Maybe you should get yourself checked out. Clearly you aren’t feeling the best. Are you all right, though? Can I get you anything?”

Kel’ori shakes her head. “Thank you for the fur… Actually, I’m pretty hungry…and tired. I used a _lot_ of energy.”

Taveth purses his lips. “I’m sure we can stay here a bit longer?”

Alisbeth furrows her brow when her question isn’t answered. “I’m serious. Where’d it come from?”

Koltira blinks at the scene and stares at the other death knight. “Sholazar Basin.”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Anarchaia nods at Alisbeth. “More than likely. Eighty percent of Azeroth’s pineapple crop comes from there. The rest from Booty Bay.” She motions for the sack of meat near Grimory. “Would you guys mind sharing any of that?”

Grimory looks up to the woman above him and shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t care, but you got it all. Up to you.”

Alisbeth scrunches her face at the man in her lap. “It’s yours. Your choice. _I’m_ sure not going to— Hey, that’s Grim’s!” She flails her hands at Koltira as he takes the bag.

Kel’ori accepts the offering and opens it frantically. She pulls out a meat pie and stares at it, concentrating on heating it up. The pie zips from her palm and explodes in a ball of fire as it hits the side of the cliff. “_What is happening to me?_” She covers her face with her hands, this time tears spring from her eyes.

Taveth jumps and gently takes the bag. “I’m sure Ana wouldn’t mind warming this up for you…” He casts a frightened, questioning look to the other mage.

Anarchaia, not without a look of apprehension, nods and takes the bag from Taveth. She conjures a round grate. After gingerly placing a thin steak as well as a few strips of circular cuts of questionable origin upon it, she places it over the flames where it hovers just out of their reach. “Perhaps we should get you back to the ship soon. You seem rather…disoriented.”

Kel’ori stakes her head quickly. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just have to concentrate, right?”

Again, Taveth casts his concerned look over his sister to Anarchaia. “I’m not sure…”

“I don’t think concentration is what you need, but I’m certainly no doctor.” The undead girl conjures a serving fork to flip the cuts. “Maybe you just need more rest. Not sleeping for as long as you did probably had some adverse effects.”

Grimory’s brows twitch at the information but he says nothing, instead closing his eyes again.

The high elf nods, licking her lips impatiently at the cooking meat. “Just rest. Yeah. I should be fine tomorrow.” Impatiently, she reaches for one of the smaller round pieces. Her finger catches on the grate, burning her. She drops the bit into the ash around the edge of the fire. Desperately she snaps her hand into the flames to grab it, then shoves it into her mouth—ash and all.

Taveth jumps and cringes. “Okay, calm down, I’m sure there’s plenty of food in the bag. No need eating… Gross.”

“Tastes fine. Five second rule.”

“That’s not how it works,” Taveth mumbles.

Alisbeth leans down to put her face near Grimory’s as she watches Koltira take a seat by the fire. “Do you think the pineapple really came from Sholazar?” She reaches out her hand to absently pet Snuffles’s head.

Anarchaia merely watches, eyes wide and brow furrowed beneath her mask. “Auhm…” She clears her throat and conjures a glass of ice water as well. “So you managed to teleport all the way back to Azeroth? That’s…very impressive.” She hands over the glass.

Grimory opens an eye and smirks. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not up to date on my botany and tropical agriculture. I could tell you where a tomato came from, but not a pineapple.” His smirk turns into a smile. “We could go there and find out, yeah?”

Kel’ori shakes her head as she drinks. “It takes too much mana. I nearly collapsed. I had to walk to find an inn for food and—” She reaches for another piece of meat but Taveth stops her.

“Let’s…use a fork, shall we?”

Anarchaia conjures a dining fork and extends it to Kel’ori. “Impressive all the same.”

Grimory opens an eye and smirks. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not up to date on my botany and tropical agriculture. I could tell you where a tomato came from, but not a pineapple.” His smirk turns into a smile. “We could go there and find out, yeah?”

Alisbeth smiles coyly. “Right now? Just go see if we can find where it came from? Get you a pineapple? Do you like pineapples?”

Grimory returns the grin and chuckles. “Doubt we’ll find any here.”

Alisbeth giggles. “Alien pineapples.”

Grimory snerks. “Alien pineapples that bite back. I’m sure the Eredar need their fruity cocktails, too.”

Kel’ori shrugs. “I hope I never do anything that _impressive_ again. Thank you.” She takes the fork and stabs the next little slice, then blows on it.

Anarchaia gives a sigh and a smile and lowers to sit on her knees. “Normally only Archmages have that kind of power. I should really tell Kalec about this. He’d be ecstatic.”

Kel’ori frowns and glances sideways at the other mage. “Does he really need to know? I mean… I’d rather he _not_ know that I can’t seem to control it.”

Taveth pulls out his personal journal and begins to take notes. “I don’t think there’s any reason not to tell him. He may have heard of such a thing? Really, you shouldn’t be afraid of telling your mentor things such as this.”

Anarchaia nods in agreement. “I’m sure he’d be just as fascinated as we. He may even be able to help. Master Khadgar is always the first person I go to if I need advice or assistance.”

Kel’ori smiles some. “You think so? I don’t want him to think I’ve grown incompetent.” She stabs the larger steak onto her fork and stares at it, contemplating how to go about eating it. “I mean, I’ve only been his apprentice for a year now…”

“Snapping Kungaloosh,” Alisbeth giggles. “Oh, oh! Jungle _bite_, instead of jungle _punch_.”

Grimory chuckles. “I’d still drink it.” He flinches as Snuffles, having given up trying to shmooze meat from Kel’ori, claws its way back onto his chest and curls up.

Alisbeth giggles and pats the marsuul on the head. “Oh, I know you would.” She threads her fingers through his hair again, gently running her fingernails along his scalp. “You should get more sleep.”

Grimory hums and nods. “As long as there’s no more loud mage noises.” He tilts his head some to get comfortable.

Anarchaia conjures a knife and hands that over as well. “I bet he’d set up your graduation tomorrow if he knew.” She gives a sad sort of laugh.

Kel’ori sets the steak back on the rack and, after testing for stability, cuts into it, then moans with the first bite. “No. Still not ‘worldly’ enough. That’s why I’m here, after all.”

Koltira shrugs and tosses a bug into the fire—the body pops open and hisses as the moisture meets the heat. “Personally, I think you’re plenty worldly, now.”

“We should go back and force him to graduate you,” Taveth says, laughing.

Anarchaia laughs. “If my last experience with him was any proof of his general disposition, I don’t think that man can be forced to do anything.”

Kel’ori laughs outright, then. “Master Kalec is _obnoxiously_ patient. It’s like hitting a spring board—try as you might to sway him, he always just pops back. I’m so lucky to have known him, though.”

Anarchaia purses her lips but chuckles all the same. “Unfortunately for him, I’m patient, too.” She shrugs. “He seems pretty kind altogether, though. He cares about you a lot.” She smirks and raises her eyebrows.

The elf blushes and averts her eyes. “Well, yeah, he’s my mentor.” She gives the steak her undivided attention.

Koltira gives an implying smirk and bumps Anarchaia’s shoulder with his own. “So. Looks like one living down, two to go. I do assume you two would like to sleep?”

They both nod and Taveth immediately makes himself more comfortable. “Yes. I’m very tired, actually.”

Anarchaia cocks her head to the man beside her and forces a smile. “You mean three. Heh.” She rests her head on his shoulder. “Though I’m rather well rested.” She conjures another sleeping fur and tosses it to Taveth as well as two pillows for each of the high elves.

Koltira laughs lightly, though he cringes inwardly at his slip. _Damn. I miss when it was just us._ “Well, I already know you’re well rested after your little nap.”

“_Nap._ Sure,” Taveth mumbles. He wraps himself in the fur and lays on the ground, the pillow under one side of his head.

Anarchaia shoots Taveth a look. “After I give you blankets and a pillow.” She scoffs dramatically and places a hand on her chest. “Rude.” Her gaze shifts across the fire to the other couple on the opposite side and her face softens. _Poor Grim. And poor Ali, for that matter._

Taveth chuckles. “Thank you so much, Ana. You’re a life saver.” He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep.

Kel’ori nods. “You really are.” She finishes the last bite of steak and sighs, satisfied. “Nothing like teleporting everywhere and shivering too hard to move to work up an appetite. Thank you so much.” She stretches out on the ground, the pillow under her head and the sleeping fur raised to let the heat hit the front of her so she can soak it all in before wrapping herself up.

Anarchaia flushes and waves a hand. “What kind of friend would I be? Heh.” After a moment of thought she stands and makes her way to Alisbeth and Grimory, on the way conjuring a third thick fur. She drapes it over the demon hunter and offers Alisbeth a comforting smile while Snuffles squeaks at the sudden darkness. Alisbeth smiles up at the mage, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Kel’ori yawns and rolls the warmth around herself. “The good kind.” She settles herself and almost immediately falls asleep.


	26. Chapter 26

The hours wear on as the three watch over the rest. Little is said over the crackling of fire, and with the two choke points on either side, lookout is made easy. Finally, when the air becomes warm again and the sun peers out from behind Azeroth, Anarchaia looks up and sighs. “At least we’ve made it this far without incident.” She pauses. “Detrimental incident.”

Koltira chuckles lightly. “I’m not so sure about the second one, either. How about: ‘none of us died on this trip’?” He pushes another piece of wood toward the fire.

Kel’ori sits up, her eyes wide and alert; the dark circles which had been gracing her complexion are gone. She smiles and stands, folding up the fur with a swiftness not common for one who’s just woken up. “Ah! What a nice morning! Smell the fresh air and the brimstone. I am _ready_ for today. How about you two?”

Anarchaia furrows her brow up at the woman, seemingly appalled by her energy. “I…guess? Heh. Gotta wait for Grim and Tav.” She gestures to the high elf and the demon hunter.

Snuffles, still beneath the furs, lifts its head at the sound of commotion, then squirms to free itself as it slowly realizes it’s trapped beneath a blanket rather than blinded.

Kel’ori sighs and nods. “Okay. You’re right. Gives me time to eat, though! Think all this is still good?” She sits down and opens the bag. After peering inside to see what is left, she sniffs it and shrugs. “Smells fine.” She stabs at a piece that is a brown flesh with large scales with the fork from last night and holds it over the fire. “You think this might be fish? Have you even seen water here?”

Koltira laughs. “I bet its some sort of fel lizard.”

Anarchaia, still in a sort of stupor from Kel’ori’s energy, smiles tiredly. “I mean…if they’re serving it to their soldiers and engineers, surely it must be edible, right?” She stretches and inhales, then deflates with a sigh. “Though, frankly, anything is edible if you’re brave enough.”

Koltira laughs. “Lava serpent? Would that mean it’s already cooked when you eat it, or that it’s always raw?”

The mage looks at the meat, then at him, and wrinkles her nose. “Ew.” She bites into the flesh anyway.

Taveth moans lightly and covers his head, not wanting to wake up and fighting it.

Anarchaia laughs at the woman near her, then perks at Taveth’s voice. She goes and kneels beside him on her haunches, then grabs him by the shoulder and gently shakes. “Good morning, Starshine. The world says hello.”

Taveth whimpers and lifts the blanket to encompass the mage and drag her to the ground. “Hello,” he says, half whining, to the woman under the furs with him. He gives her a small hug, somehow feeling he needs one.

Koltira watches with an unamused expression and pursed lips. “That boy is lucky he…”

“He what?” Kel’ori asks over a bite of food.

Koltira clears his throat. “He’s lucky he’s my friend,” he says.

Anarchaia gives a quiet gasp of surprise then laughs. “We gotta get going soon.” She wraps her arms around him in return, sobering some. “Everything okay?”

Taveth hums in thought. “Yeah. I think so. Thank you for being such a great person.” He gives her one last squeeze and throws the fur to the side.

The undead mage blushes and sits up with a smile. “No, you.” She chuckles and stands, then holds out a hand to assist him.

Taveth accepts the hand up and groggily stoops to fold up the fur.

“Rough night?” Kel’ori asks, giggling.

Taveth looks at her and spreads his hands to gesture questioningly at her. “How?”

She shrugs. “I guess I’m just a morning person. I feel like I could run a marathon!” She gasps. “I bet I can use my magic again!” She bites her lower lip and conjures a small flame in her palm, but frowns at the odd green color. “Well, that’s not right.” The flame pops and explodes, then fizzles out.

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “At least it’s _kind of_ working now?”

Anarchaia’s brow knits suddenly at the green flame. She pauses as she slowly takes the fur from Taveth, eyes locked on the small fire before it sputters out. She blinks and shakes her head, sending the blanket away, then silently does the same with Kel’ori’s.

Kel’ori smiles at the other mage and moves aside.

Alisbeth gently runs her fingertip down the demon hunter’s forehead to the tip of his nose, over and over. “I think it’s time to wake up,” she whispers.

Grimory scrunches his face at the tickles, then shakes his head. “I think it’s time to keep sleeping,” he grumbles, turning his head away as far as his horns let him.

Alisbeth runs her finger along his ear instead, before reaching around to gently set the pad of her index finger on his nose. “Boop. Wakey-wakey. It’s time to get up, sleepy-head.”

Grimory grumbles again and rolls onto his stomach to push his face into her leg, then mumbles something incoherent against it. Snuffles squeaks in protest as it’s dumped into the dirt, flailing its short legs.

Alisbeth whines. “Grii-_iii-_iim.” She wiggles him side to side. “They’re gonna leave us behind!”

“So let them,” Grimory grunts and threads an arm beneath her leg and the other over the top to lock her thigh against his cheek.

“It’s gonna be that way, then?” Alisbeth lays down, pulling the fur over her head. She reaches her hand into his waistband, straining to reach around to his front.

Grimory grabs her wrist and gives her a warning glance with a blush. He pulls her searching fingers back out. “Not here, Ali.”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll…” She grabs a nearby rock just smaller than her fist and pulls open the back of his trousers. “I’m gonna shove this rock up your ass.”

The demon hunter purses his lips, then sits up before she has the chance. “All right. I’m up.”

“Oh, good!” Anarchaia grabs the furs from them and they disappear as well. “We’re about to get going, anyway. As soon as Kel’ori is done with breakfast.”

Kel’ori looks up from her mirror in one hand as she spreads gloss over her thick lips—her eyelids already quickly colored a lilac to match her robes. She smiles and slips her things back into her bag. “Already finished! Thank you.” She frowns as she searches in her bag. “I forgot my hairbrush.” She absently waves her hand, which becomes encircled in a dark indigo cloud. When it clears, and ornate, completely black dagger is in her hand. “This…isn’t even mine.”

Alisbeth boggles at the mage. “It’s just like the pineapple! Can I have it?”

“How about _I_ take it and…start a collection. Heh.” Taveth plucks the dagger from Kel’ori’s fist and slips it into the front pocket of his satchel with the spine. He purses his lips at the jarring zap it shoots through his arm, suddenly very aware of the dagger’s soul. “Curious…”

Anarchaia blinks at the dagger, then conjures her own hairbrush—ornate in brushed silver and encrusted with small cerulean stones. She holds it out for the elf. “I clean it after every use. Heh. Hate finding stray hairs on my clothes…”

Grimory stands and stretches, still somehow not feeling refreshed or energized. He sighs. “Could use some coffee. And I hate coffee.”

Kel’ori takes the brush, smiling shyly. “Thanks again. I really owe you big time.”

Taveth perks at the demon hunter. “What about tea? There’s this wonderful blend from Kun’lai summit that wakes you much better than coffee, but doesn’t taste nearly as bad.” He frowns. “Though, having Ana conjure more things is just going to wear her out so far away, I’m sure.”

“Let’s just get a move on, shall we?” Koltira urges.

“Oh, really. It’s nothing.” The undead mage titters, then tilts her head at Taveth as she sends the grill away as well as any utensils. “It’s not that draining, heh. Though I wouldn’t know where to get such a tea.” She holds a hand out for Koltira to stand.

Taveth shrugs innocently. “It’s from the Grummles. Like I said, it’s fine.”

“Steal these sleepy-heads some coffee and let’s go!” Kel’ori says, finishing brushing her hair.

“I agree with the chipper one,” Koltira says, turning to begin the trek back to Destiny Point with or without the others.

Anarchaia nods and conjures a couple mugs of steaming, black coffee. She holds one out to each of the blond men, then fidgets nervously when Koltira trudges off without her.

Grimory takes it and sneers at the smell, but sips it all the same and turns to follow the death knight. “Thank you.”

Snuffles bounds after him, determined to steal some of the bitter, foreign liquid for itself.

Koltira turns to look behind for the mage, then slows so she can catch up.

Alisbeth runs after Snuffles once her leg armor is secured and scoops him into her arms. “He’s not leaving you behind, Sparklekhan.”

Taveth smiles tiredly at the mage, though she isn’t looking, then takes up a spot at the end of the line beside his boisterous sister.

Anarchaia gives a nervous, sort of apologetic laugh to the others, motions for Kel’ori to hold on to the hairbrush, then runs ahead to catch up with Koltira, stumbling along the way.

Grimory gives the critter a sideways glance, pulling his coffee away. “I honestly don’t even remember that thing’s name.” He scowls at it when it paws at his arm from Alisbeth’s grasp.

Alisbeth giggles. “I just said it, pay attention, silly. It’s Snappy.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows down at her and again sips his coffee. “You said _Sparklekhan_,” he responds, silently wondering if testing her will help her memory issues, even if only slightly.

She purses her lips up at him. “I’m really sure I didn’t. I know I said Slippers.”

Koltira smiles some with just one corner of his lips. “Losing battle, Grim.”

The demon hunter tilts his head at him then her, more curious than anything. “What name did you literally _just_ say?” he presses cautiously. _What’s the limit?_

Alisbeth’s brow furrows with concern. She steps in front of the demon hunter and grabs him by the horns, pulling down to make him look into her eyes. “Are you feeling okay? Are you having trouble remembering things? What’s my name? What’s _your_ name? Where are we?”

Grimory’s jaw tightens at the pain of having his horns pulled, no matter how gentle. He narrows his eyes and the corners of his mouth tighten. “Yes. Your name is Altaïr, I’m Griffin, and we’re on planet Fuck-This-Shit.”

Alisbeth gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh, no. You’re… Wait, are you joking? You’re joking with me.”

Grimory leans closer, places a short kiss on her nose, then turns to whisper in her ear. “Yes.” While gently pushing past her, he grabs her by the hand and pulls her to follow the others.

Alisbeth giggles and tucks herself under his arm to walk beside him. “Silly dork.”

“Dork? _Me?_” Grimory narrows an eye down at her then musses her hair. “You’re the biggest dork I know.”

She makes a face. “Am not!”

“Are, too.” The Illidari sticks a long tongue out at her.

Alisbeth reaches up to grab his tongue and makes a scrunched-up face. “Don’t make me bite it off.”

Grimory’s tongue slithers around Alisbeth’s wrist before she’s able to grab it and he smirks. “Like you could.”

Alisbeth squeals and pulls away. “I could. I really could.” She snaps her teeth at him.

“I don’t think you’d be very keen on having me around sans a tongue,” Grimory responds, snapping his fangs in return.

Alisbeth grins up at the demon hunter. “Mmmaybe?”

Koltira purses his lips. “Walking back without having everything to fight is…boring.” He chuckles. “It reminds me of the early days of Stormheim. So much walking.”

Anarchaia flashes the man beside her a smile. “I recall a lot of _not walking_ as well. Thanks to Grim.” She chuckles. “Though, I agree. I don’t particularly enjoy fighting, but it’d be a preferable alternative at this point.”

Koltira sets an arm over the mage’s shoulder and lets out a long breath. “I mean…you could teleport us back, couldn’t you? Or do you suffer from some sort of gravitational misalignment or…something?”

“Gravitational whuh? O-oh! Heh. No. I can’t teleport this many people and I figured a portal here would be dangerous lest something follow us through. Though… Illidan, Turalyon, _and_ Velen are waiting for us there so I doubt anything that’d follow us would make it very far…” Anarchaia’s voice trails off as she muses.

Koltira chuckles. “It’s good reasoning, actually.” He shrugs and looks around the seemingly deserted area. “Guess we’re _walking_.”

Taveth squints one eye at Kel’ori as she digs into the bag for the last meat pie. “That’s almost a day old.”

She pinches her face at him in annoyance. “It’s still food. What do you want me to do? Roast a demon and… Well, there are no demons, apparently. And you guys didn’t like my idea of the demon goat.” She jogs up to the other mage and holds the pie out. “I don’t want the last one exploding. Would you mind?” She smiles shyly.

Anarchaia gives Koltira a seemingly conforming pat on the arm. She blinks at Kel’ori as she approaches, then smiles. “Of course!” The pie rapidly heats to the point where steam wisps out of the poked holes in the top.

Kel’ori falls back to walk with Taveth as she blows on the pie to cool it enough to bite. “I don’t even know how you’re not starving.”

He makes a face. “I’m hungry, yes, but I’m not going to eat food poisoning in a crust.”

She stares at him, eyes wide and cheeks full. “Food poisoning?”

“You’re going to end up vomiting behind a boulder.”

The mage stares at him, then at the pie. Slowly she takes another bite, her eyes glued to her brother as he cringes.

Anarchaia looks over her shoulder at the siblings. “Perhaps she’s just grown a liking for the food here. Heh. You don’t like what you’ve eaten so far?”

“No, no,” Taveth says, “it’s not about the _flavor_ of the food, it’s about _freshness_. The food tastes fine.”

“The cook isn’t here, no need to kiss ass,” Koltira says with a smirk.

Anarchaia laughs. “So the flavor is good but the freshness is questionable? Or are you just questioning the staying power of the meat pies in particular?”

Grimory perks his ears at the conversation ahead of hem then lowers his eyelids. “This _is_ Stormheim all over again…”

Alisbeth takes the demon hunters hand and smiles. “I dunno. Bloodmist isn’t here. And it’s…greener. And I’m not married to Kolty. And we have two more people.”

Grimory smiles in return. “I meant the boring conversation.”

Taveth purses him lips impatiently. “I’m not eating meat that’s been in a _sack_ for a day.”

Anarchaia chuckles again. “What’s wrong with meat from a sack?”

Taveth sighs and stares at his feet. “Never mind.”

The undead mage stops so that Taveth runs into her back, then gives him a smile. “Only messing with you. I wouldn’t eat day old meat pie, either.”

“Heh.” Taveth shifts nervously. After an awkward moment not sure what to say, he urges her back into walking.

Alisbeth looks around as though oblivious, her smile still wide. “I think our conversations are lovely. Nice, wonderful friendly conversation.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows. “You do, eh? You like dull drivel about old meat pies and how much longer it’ll take to get where we’re going?”

Alisbeth’s smile stretches to a Cheshire grin. “If I ate, I’d eat meat pies. And only meat pies. No, and jerky. I miss jerky. Oh! And chocolate. I’d eat so much chocolate! I think if I came back to life for one day, that’s what I’d want to do is just eat all day. And sleep.”

Kel’ori moans. “_Ooh._ Now I want chocolate. Thanks, _Redblade._”

_Ugh. Same._ Anarchaia turns with a smile and slows to walk beside Kel’ori. “I can conjure some. I know where they keep the sweets in the kitchen. I used to raid it all the time.” She chuckles. _Before finding out the hard way…_

Kel’ori bites her lower lip as her eyes widen and light with excitement. “You _do?_ I always tried but I never found it! Just one piece is enough. Please. Not enough for them to notice.”

Taveth rolls his eyes. “Be sure to get her some water, too. And me, actually, please.” He grins charmingly at the other mage.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a sideways glance. “Can you not already do that? What’s the worst that could happen if you just ate it for nostalgia’s sake? Granted you probably can’t _taste_ it, but…”

Alisbeth gives Grimory a strange look. “Can I eat? Well, yeah. But what’s the point of food if I can’t taste it?” She kicks a rock hard enough to tumble forward into Koltira’s boot. “Kolty! What happens if we eat?”

He blinks slowly at her. “I never tried. Some say it festers, others say it…passes…or comes back.”

She purses her lips and stops. “Oh. That’s gross.”

Anarchaia gives a nod and holds up a palm. It fills with a single piece of chocolate and two cups of iced water. <<When I eat, it’s completely dissolved with ichor and absorbed into my blood as mana. Unless it doesn’t,>> she explains casually though only two of them can understand her. She hands the siblings their items.

Grimory shrugs. “There’s worse, I suppose. Could kill you…again.” He sneers. “Festering, though. Ew. Yeah. Maybe just avoid food, then.”

Anarchaia lifts a finger and turns. “_Actually_, most food items aren’t bad enough to kill you if they ferment or become moldy. Sure, you’ll get sick, but—”

“Yeah, thanks,” he interjects, eyelids lowered.

“_Are we almost there?_” Alisbeth asks impatiently. She runs forward and scrabbles up Koltira to kneel on his shoulders as she uses the height to look ahead on the path.

The other death knight stumbles and waves his arms upward. “Would you— Get off me! What the— _Ow!_”

The undead mage narrows her eyes and lifts Alisbeth up and off the other death knight with a raised hand. She sets her gingerly down. “Ask that again and I burn every hair off your head.”

Kel’ori laughs at the two and takes a bite of the chocolate. She rushes through chewing and swallowing, then takes another large bite. After a moment she stops and frowns, her eyelids fluttering as her lips purse. As fast as she can, she runs to the side of the road and props herself on a boulder to vomit.

Taveth pauses for just a second, then walks past, sipping his water. “Told you so.”

Anarchaia jumps as Kel’ori sprints away then grits her teeth and fidgets. “Uh…did it taste okay? Heh. Perhaps she’s just ill…?”

Grimory purses his lips at the scene and merely continues onward, keeping any comments he has to himself.

Taveth shrugs and turns to Anarchaia. “I told her not to eat day-old meat pie that’s been exposed to the elements. But, I mean, what do I know? I’m just one of the two smartest people here.”

Alisbeth throws her arm around the back of his neck. “Are you calling me smart? Aww.”

“I…um…sure? Heh.”

Kel’ori spits one last time and swallows, pausing to make sure she’s finished. “Yeah, yeah, gloat about it.” She meets the other mage and falls into step with the group. “To be honest, it did taste a little funny. Then again, I almost didn’t taste it at all.” She laughs and waves a hand. In an indigo puff, her hairbrush appears in her hand. She glares at it and purses her lips tighter. “I wanted _water,_” she growls through her teeth.

Anarchaia holds out the second cup of water and chuckles. “Well you got your brush, now…” She conjures another hunk of chocolate and holds it across Kel’ori to Taveth. “You eat this. Tell me if it’s good. Though it takes a long time for chocolate to become bad enough to make you sick…”

Taveth narrows his eyes. “You want me to intentionally ingest what you suspect might make me sick? Forgive me if I pass. Besides, it was the meat. Who even knows what animal it’s from?”

Kel’ori sips the water, her eyes narrowed. “Gee, Tav, I feel the love from here.” She reaches out her hand to take the chocolate, then stops herself, then tries again. “If I vomit again does it count?”

Anarchaia curls her fingers around the piece and pulls it away when Kel’ori reaches for it a second time. “No, this is for science, now. But who…?” She perks and runs ahead. “Grim! Grim eat this chocolate!”

The demon hunter gives her the slightest of scowls, but takes the piece all the same. He chews for a second, then shrugs. “I’m not into sweets, but it tastes fine to me.”

Anarchaia taps her chin. “Curious. If only I had a bigger sample size…”

Kel’ori frowns as the chocolate disappears into the demon hunter’s mouth. “Oh, but, I’m sure it was just that piece!” She whimpers shortly. “Now I’m hungry again.”

Taveth makes a face. “You’re hungry after that?”

“When you throw up your innards, you kind of need to fill it back up with food, silly!” Alisbeth fluffs the high elf’s pony tail, ignoring as he tries to wave her aside.

Anarchaia turns and purses her lips, though her voice remains somewhat bright and caring. “If I conjure you something will you eat it? Or should I just immediately throw it on the ground?”

Kel’ori’s brow furrows to a scowl. “No need,” she snaps. “I’ll just wait until I can get back to the Vindicaar.” She stomps forward to march ahead of the rest of them.

Taveth narrows his eyes after her. “Because that’s not an overreaction or anything.”

Anarchaia shrugs and chuckles. “I was only kidding. I’d have gladly grabbed something for her.”

The corners of Grimory’s lips tighten to an unenthused line. He does not look down at the mage at his side but instead keeps his eyes trained forward. “Can we just get along? Normally I’m not the one having to say this…”

Anarchaia knits her brow up at him. “I wasn’t trying to be rude!”

He sighs and rolls his eyes.

True to her word, the high elf stomps her way to Destiny Point, past everyone else, and through the beacon to the Vindicaar.


	27. Chapter 27

Taveth gives the others a quick, tight-lipped glance, and follows through the beacon. When he finds his sister, though, she’s sitting at a table with no food, her face on her folded arms. “Y-you know Ana was joking, right?” He sets a hand on her shoulder. “I…thought you were hungry… Kel?”

“I missed breakfast,” she whimpers into her arms.

“Oh.” He purses his lips and goes to get them both something to eat, guessing at what she might want.

Anarchaia sighs and joins her across the table as she and the others catch up. “Does it _have_ to be Argussian bacon? We could grab some from Dalaran…”

Grimory takes up a bench at another table altogether and takes up a similar posture to Kel’ori’s. Still somewhat tired, he closes his eyes and does his best not to focus on the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. “I feel like we get _one thing_ done and then have to take a break,” he mutters in annoyance. “I just wanna get off this rock.”

Kel’ori’s shoulder rises up, then falls. “I dunno. It’s…different. But maybe?”

Alisbeth drops beside her and gives an over-exaggerated frown. “I’m gonna pout because I don’t always get my way!”

Taveth sets a tray in front of Kel’ori, then sits beside Anarchaia with his own. “Ali, don’t antagonize.”

Anarchaia conjures a sizzling slab of traditional bacon and sets it gingerly upon Kel’ori’s tray. “I think we’re all a little stressed…still…heh.” She fidgets. “I’m sure the wrinkles will iron out, though. Perhaps just some more rest and a good diet will make you feel better…” Her eyes flick past Kel’ori to the demon hunter at the far table, but her face remains trained ahead. “Hopefully there isn’t too much left for us to do.”

After letting the bacon cool enough, Kel’ori takes one and tentatively bites off the end. She sighs but keeps her face from revealing the disappointment. “Thank you, Ana. Really. It’s perfect.”

Koltira gives Anarchaia a cautious smile. “I’m sure things will get back to normal.”

Alisbeth scoffs and turns her back on all of them, folding her arms and eyeing the demon hunter. “There’s no such thing as normal.”

Familiar with disingenuous tones, Anarchaia gives a sideways smile to the other mage, then offers Koltira a slightly sadder one. “Alisbeth may be right on this one. Heh.” She frowns and looks over at Grimory again—resting with his head in his folded arms like a punished student. “Though I’m seriously thinking the sooner we get this ordeal over with, the better.”

Taveth nods as he chews. “I’m sure we all agree with that sentiment.”

“Then I guess we should hurry,” Kel’ori says, before shoving as much bacon into her mouth as she can chew in one bite.

The mage conjures their map and gives it a once over. “I suppose it’s back to Destiny Point, then. I’m sure our familiar friends…and not-so-friend…will have more for us.” She pauses and resists a sigh. “As they always do.”

Kel’ori smiles and stands as she finishes. “Well, then, we should get started! Nothing like a nice meal to kick in the energy, right?”

“I’m still eating,” Taveth objects as she pulls on him.

“Eat and walk, Tav. Let’s go.”

Koltira sets a gentle hand on Kel’ori’s gripping her brother’s shirt. “Let him finish.”

She purses her lips at him and sticks her nose in the air. “Fine. I’ll meet you all there.” She stomps upstairs to use the beacon.

Anarchaia blinks as Kel’ori leaves, then jumps and scrambles to her feet to follow. “Wait, Kel! It’s dangerous to go alone!”

Cautious of being left behind, Grimory gently shifts his head to look at how many may have followed Kel’ori, green eye shimmering through the shadows of his head and arms.

“I’ll be fine! I’m just going to Destiny Point, like you said.”

Taveth stares at his meal and sighs. “She won’t leave the rest of us.”

“Are you sure about that?” Koltira asks, standing to follow the mages.

He whines and catches Alisbeth’s eye as she also stands.

“She’s kinda lost her shit, huh? People call _me_ crazy…” She goes to the demon hunter and tentatively sets her hand on his shoulder. “Wanna stay here a little longer? Did you eat? I can get you something. What do you want?”

Grimory lifts his head and smiles tiredly at her. “No, I’m fine. Let’s just keep a move on, yeah?” He straightens and blinks over at Taveth. “Though we should wait for Tav.”

Alisbeth’s chin wrinkles and her lower lip quivers, though she fights it to stay still. “One steak, Grim. Please. Just eat one and I won’t bother you about it again.”

Grimory’s smile fades immediately at the sight of her restraining her tears. He pulls back his ears. “O-Okay. Yeah. Just…just don’t cry, okay? Please.”

Alisbeth balls her fists. “I’m _not crying_. Okay? I’m not! I just want you to eat something. Anything. I don’t care what.”

“Even if Turalyon and the others are there, it still may be dangerous!” Anarchaia bounds up the stairs after her, nearly stumbling on her heels.

Kel’ori waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Seriously, why are you so concerned?” She steps on the portal and immediately frowns, then teeters before her form disappears.

Anarchaia stops short of the beacon and fidgets, not wanting to leave the others to use it as well. She turns and folds her arms and taps a toe anxiously. “Foolish woman. Honestly.”

Koltira grits his teeth. “Do you want to send me down to keep an eye on her?”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “No. I’d rather she learn her lesson than send you through that blender.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows then shrugs a shoulder. “Oh? Then I guess it ain’t that big ‘a deal, yeah?” He ignores the pain in his stomach at the mere thought of food but cannot resist cringing. “…and fine. Yeah. I don’t care what, either.”

Koltira folds his arms and leans against the railing. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Alisbeth scowls, her chin still quivering. “It _is_ that big of a deal. I don’t want you to starve to death, okay?” She steps around him, hiding her face as a single tear breaks free. She wipes her face and serves up a plate with meat and herbed, pan-seared tubers, then sets the plate in front of him. “Please.”

Grimory frowns up at her, though grabs the fork off the tray all the same. “It takes longer than a couple weeks to die from hunger…” he mutters and stuffs a couple of the potatoes between his fangs. “And I said okay,” he mumbles through his chewing, a humbled blush on his cheeks. “No more crying, please.”

Alisbeth’s frown deepens and she turns away to march herself to where the other two wait upstairs.

Anarchaia perks as Alisbeth rounds the corner. “Ali. What’s up? Are…you all right?”

Alisbeth turns her head away from the mage and raises her eyebrows. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” She rubs at her nose and stares off at something across the deck.

Anarchaia’s eyelids lower and the corners of her mouth tighten. “Right. Of course.”

Taveth sets himself in a seat a little away from the demon hunter. “I’ll wait with you, if you like. I’m in no hurry.”

Grimory sighs and casts Taveth a tired smile. “Thanks, Tav. Me, either.” He takes a large bite of meat and narrows an eye at the taste but savors it regardless. “What am I doing wrong?”

The high elf cocks an eyebrow. “Wrong? I…wasn’t aware that you were.”

Grimory sighs again at the man’s response and shoves the remainder of his steak into his mouth before standing. “Never mind,” he murmurs after swallowing and makes his way for the door.

Taveth lets out a soft breath. “Right. Okay.” He glances around and deflates seeing only unfamiliar faces in the mess hall. He stands and follows the others, his gaze on his feet.

Koltira’s brow lowers as the two men approach with similar dispositions to Alisbeth. He catches Anarchaia’s eye and sighs. “Let’s get this show on the road?” _Before we all tear ourselves apart._

Anarchaia nods and opens a portal back to Destiny Point, then follows the group through. Once safely on the other side, she goes rigid before stumbling over to the unconscious woman in the dirt, ignoring the Draenei woman fussing over the elf. “Kel’ori!” She gives her a gentle shake. “Kel, are you all right?”

Taveth kneels beside his sister and pats her cheek. “Kel?”

“Dump cold water on her?” Koltira suggests.

Alisbeth, still frowning, goes and wraps her cold fingers around the mage’s forehead and breathes frosty air over the pale lavender eyeshadow.

Kel’ori gives a small shudder, then sits up quickly, smacking her forehead into Alisbeth’s. “Oh, gods,” she moans as she lays back down, “brain freeze.”

Anarchaia gives a sigh of relief and sits back up on her knees. “Thank you, Ali.” She conjures a cup of chilled water and holds it out for the other mage. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Kel’ori sits up and takes the water with a nod of thanks. “I just got really dizzy and nauseated. How do people travel by beacon? It’s sickening!”

“I bet it’s because they’re all space goats and it doesn’t bother them,” Alisbeth says, standing and giving the draenei woman a wide grin.

Taveth’s eyebrows lower. “That’s…incredibly offensive…”

“They do kinda look like goats, though,” Grimory mumbles with a shrug behind him.

“Yeah, heh,” Anarchaia responds. “That’s why I prefer my portals. No more rushing off without us, okay? I’m just glad it was the beacon that did you in and not something else.”

She accepts as Koltira helps haul her to her feet. Kel’ori nods and dusts herself off. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get going?”

“To adventure!” Alisbeth screams and hooks her arm through her cousin’s, then rushes toward Turalyon.

Taveth deflates a little. “Am I the only one completely lost, here?”

Anarchaia accepts the assistance as well and brushes her knees off, then follows the rest.

Grimory simply gives Taveth a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he passes.

Turalyon smiles down at Kel’ori and the others. “You’re back! How did it go?”

“Well,” Anarchaia explains casually. “The demons aren’t particularly strong there. How is the warframe coming?”

“Well as well,” he chuckles and folds his arms. “We need a couple more pieces, however. From the fel elementals.”

“Felementals?” Grimory mutters as though he’d just figured out the answer to the world’s most unimpressive riddle.

Anarchaia snerks but remains composed. “You can count on us.”

“Oh! And two more things. Two particularly troublesome demons have been making it difficult for us. Take care of them for us and we’d be greatly appreciate it. I’m…sure you’ll know them when you see them.”

Alisbeth breaths in excitedly and grins wide. “_Kiiilling thiiings!_” She immediately shoves Kel’ori forward with one hand and grabs Grimory’s hand with the other, pushing and pulling them both.

Taveth purses his lips, shifts his eyes sideways to look at the three moving away, then smiles up at Turalyon. “Thank you, sir. We shall see this task done. Heh.”

Koltira blinks after the high elf walks away and shakes his head. “Nerd.”

Turalyon gives the scholar a scarred smile and watches him go. “Also,” he regards the remaining two, “if you happen to come across any of their ill-but-aptly-named _spires of woe_, do take care of them for us?”

Anarchaia gives a nod, then turns to playfully scowl at the death knight beside her as she urges him to follow the rest. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Koltira chuckles as he gently pats the mage’s head. “Oh, I think you heard me.”

The party travels the northern road again, this time turning left where pillars send shocks of lightning toward the ground, eredari sorcerers controlling them at the base. A large green elemental paces past and heads down a hill—little elementals follow in its trail.

Anarchaia frowns at the sight as they round the bend. “Aw,” she groans. “They’re kinda cute. Do we have to kill the small ones? What if the large one is their mother? Can elementals have mothers?”

Grimory pulls his ears back at the mundane musings behind him and picks up the pace as they push forward, eventually coming to pull Alisbeth instead of being pulled. “Let’s just kill everything, how’s that sound?” He lunges forward to thrust his claws into the back of the nearest sorcerer, the tips exploding out the front of his torso and spraying blood everywhere before the others have a chance to react.

Kel’ori growls as the spire over them shoots fel beams onto the mage. Instinctively she calls upon her arcane magics to wrap her in a protective shield. The bubble sparks and undulates, shifting from blue, to red, to a dark green before is shatters into thousands of little pink sparks.

Alisbeth giggles and tries to catch the sparks, but they fizzle and disappear before she can get one. “Do it again!”

“No! Just take out the tower,” Taveth says.

Koltira stays back, uninterested in the spire and the goings on around it. He grins down at Anarchaia. “I love the way you think about things.”

The second mage gives a small, embarrassed chuckle. “I’m serious, though.” Anarchaia throws another protective barrier—this one of fire—around Kel’ori as more fel energy pummels her. From a distance, she impales an advancing sorceress through the skull as it nears Grimory. “Grim, the tower!”

The demon hunter gives a curt nod of understanding. Shaking the blood from his claws, he makes his way to the hovering orb of fel magics. The beam aimed at Kel’ori sets its sights on him instead, washing over him and the soil. He grits his teeth at the minor, irritating pain and blows fire over the sphere. It shudders, cracks, and explodes into puffs of smoke and embers and the tower’s attack subsides into nothing. He sighs and rubs at his neck. “Annoying, more than anything.”

Kel’ori purses her lips. “It stung a bit. Thank you, Ana.”

“I get to break the next one!” Alisbeth shouts and takes off running down the hill for another spire. She engages the sorcerous there, giggling in excitement.

The undead mage gives a wave of her hand and a smile. “Don’t mention it. Heh.” She follows both Alisbeth and the Illidari down the path, should anymore shielding be necessary.

Grimory throws down a silencing sigil beneath the sorceress before she’s able to finish casting; she gives him an annoyed and angry glare, then runs toward the death knight with fists raised and a primal growl.

Alisbeth ducks at the last minute to let the sorceress impale herself on the spikes of her axe. She pushes the eredari to the ground and begins hacking into the woman’s chest.

Koltira rushes forward to slam Byfrost against the crystal until it shatters.

Kel’ori whines and tries to spark some sort of spell between her palms. “Stop being so useless, Nightheart,” she mumbles.

Taveth grabs his sister and drags her forward as a cluster of fel elementals rushes to them, catching the tail of her cloak on fire. She squeaks and hops backward, tearing her cloak from her shoulders. A green pulse explodes around her, rushing into the small creatures and making their forms spark lightly, but otherwise remain unaffected.

Anarchaia’s eyes widen slightly when she turns from dealing with a small elemental and finds no useable core. “Please tell me that was nature magic,” she whispers to herself before shaking it off and extinguishing the small group chasing the other mage with an eruption of fire from the stone below.

Grimory grabs Alisbeth by the elbow to direct her toward more—alive—targets. “She’s dead,” he laughs, then turns his sights on a large elemental making its way toward them. It summons a circle of fire below his feet and he hops out of the way.

Alisbeth grins widely at the demon hunter. “But I was having fun!” She laughs and runs toward the large elemental.

Kel’ori throws her cloak on the ground and stomps out the flames. “Great. Not even _I_ can fix burned fabric.” She assesses the damage and squeals in anger. The mage balls up the destroyed cloak and lobs it at the elemental Alisbeth is running for. “Fine! Take the whole damn thing!”

Taveth chuckles. “Temper.”

The cloak misses the elemental entirely and wraps around Alisbeth’s head. The death knight screams as she falls sideways.

Grimory catches Alisbeth just as she teeters, then rights her again while simultaneously pulling her out of the path of a ball of fel fire. He rips the fabric from her face and makes to toss it, but instead brings it up to shield them from the second hail of fireballs. A hole eats through the cloak and he suddenly realizes the mistake. Shooting an embarrassed glance over his shoulder, he gives a chuckle. “Hope you weren’t planning on taking this back…”

The sorceress cries out as her entire body bursts into raging orange flames. She runs every which way but finds her own magic cannot quell the fire. A second sorceress hisses at her to keep her distance when she nears, still screaming.

Anarchaia cringes at the sight and sound. “Eh…sorry.”

Kel’ori clenches her fists, which emit little blue sparks, and growls. “It was already destroyed!” She holds out her palms in an attempt to throw any kind of spell at the sorceress. A pale blue set of tiny missiles fly out, shattering weakly against the eredari.

Alisbeth grins up at the demon hunter. “Thank you!” She plants a small peck on his shoulder and runs forward, slashing at the sorceress that isn’t on fire. Her axe cuts across the woman’s torso, slashing her midsection open.

Koltira quickly beheads the screaming eredari as she passes him, then hops back away from the flaming corpse.

“I could have fixed it,” Anarchaia mumbles behind the other mage and sneers in disgust as the demon’s head rolls near her. “Though I’m not allowed to do the magic necessary for doing so.”

The second sorceress hisses as the projectiles spark against her robes. She grits her fangs and summons a pack of three felhounds that eagerly leap through the portal and run at Kel’ori, jaws wide. The sorceress gurgles as Alisbeth’s axe slices into her.

Grimory quickly intervenes, grabbing one felhound by the tail and hurling it into the other two, knocking them to the dirt and rocks. He blows emerald fire over them but is interrupted by a bolt of equally green fire to the side of his head. He growls and turns to see a lone imp that managed its way through the portal as well; it yipes at the glare and bounds away in the opposite direction, screeching cowardly apologies.

Kel’ori squeaks and jumps behind her brother. Taveth thinks quickly, raising a hand to bind one of the two hounds in purple chains. The hound stops for just a second before leaping onto the other. The two demons squabble in the dirt, slicing with their claws and biting with sharp fangs until finally the unbound felhound yipes then groans as it falls to the ground, dead.

Kel’ori laughs nervously at the other mage. “I guess I could have asked Kalec, huh?” She absently bends down to pet the subdued felhound, scratching behind its ear. “Think we could keep this one, like Ali’s pet over there?

Taveth purses his lips. “The second I release him he’ll turn on us. And you hate pets.”

The mage clenches her jaw as a darkness spreads over her features. “Then what good is he except as food?” She lifts the demon by the antennae and tosses it into the fel lava.

Alisbeth chases down the imp and kicks it back at Grimory. “Catch!”

The demon hunter’s arms bulge as they morph into sharp claws. He slashes the small demon in half as it nears and flinches as its blood sprays into his face. He scoffs down at its corpse and wipes his cheek on his shoulder. “Could you imagine a demon hunter eating one of _those_? Pathetic.”

Anarchaia blinks as the hound sizzles in the lava. “Kalec can do that, too? Is there anything he _can’t_ restore?” She sticks her tongue out in disgust at the head once more and taps at it with her toe, giving it enough momentum to roll into the lava as well.

Taveth gags as the smell of the wailing felhound reaches his nostrils. He moves away from Kel’ori toward Anarchaia, then quickly changes direction as she kicks the head like a ball. He can’t help but feel remorse for the felhound as it finally goes quiet.

“Bet they taste good, though,” Kel’ori comments casually, gesturing at the part of the imp that had landed near her.

Following the mage’s example, Alisbeth begins kicking the corpses and body parts into the lava.

Koltira sneers. “Let’s just…keep moving.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow at the other mage and stares for a long, blank moment. “You…want to eat one…?” she asks cautiously as though still wrapping her mind around the concept.

Kel’ori forces an awkward laugh. “N-no! What? That’s weird. I was just… You know… Other people or whatever probably eat them. Right?” She raises one shoulder and smiles sweetly as she passes to follow Koltira.

“She’s not wrong,” Taveth mumbles. “Water? Please?”

Anarchaia’s brow furrows further as she watches the other mage go, then blinks and shakes her head a few times as Taveth addresses her. “Oh! Yes. Um…sorry. Heh.” She conjures a hefty waterskin and holds it out. “People really eat those? Or are you just trying to make your sister sound normal?” She chuckles.

Grimory and Alisbeth make short work of the remaining crystal and a nearby elemental. The demon hunter turns to the rest and shrugs, however, when the creature doesn’t contain the core they’re searching for.

Taveth shrugs as he takes a drink. “Every creature is prey to something.” He hooks his arm through hers and frowns as Grimory shrugs. “We’re going to be at this all day.”

Koltira holds up his fist and stands as though frozen. When he finally moves, he points behind a series of pillars and a green figure beneath the supported overhang. “I think she’s one of the two we’re looking for.”

Alisbeth grins. “Then what are we waiting for?” She charges forward, screaming a war cry. Nearby elementals stop and turn to chase after the death knight.

The Illidari follows, breathing fire over the smaller elementals as they give chase; they sputter out of existence leaving nothing behind but their metal bindings.

Lady Heretica gives a screech as the party nears, raising an arm and channeling fel energies into the ground beneath Alisbeth’s feet. The soil glows green and explodes with fel fire.

Anarchaia lags behind as she notices a glistening globe in the dirt by the bindings. She grins as she picks it up. “I think this is the core we were looking for.”

Taveth smiles. “Want me to hold it or just send it back like the others?”

Alisbeth leaps out of the way, swinging the Maw across the dirt. Lady Heretica jumps up and summons more circles under everyone’s feet.

Koltira jumps away, swinging Byfrost around to slash at the demon.

The mage looks down at it in her hands—its green, swirling aura, its seemingly infinite blackness—and sticks out her tongue before relinquishing it to the scholar. “Yeah, I don’t want this in my room. Heh.”

Grimory merely steps out of the ring beneath him, then scowls over at the mages. “Some help?” he barks, dodging a large ball of fire that’s hurled toward him. He lifts a claw to shield his face from the second, then slashes one of the shivarra’s hands off at the wrist; she screeches and swipes at him, summoning a hail of fel fire in the area surrounding her.

Anarchaia perks and gives a nervous chuckle. “Sorry!” She lifts a hand and utters a word beneath her breath. The cloud raining fire dissipates and Lady Heretica curses loudly.

Koltira smiles at the mage, the sweeps Byfrost around to slash at the sorceress. The other death knight slashes with her axe from the other side.

Taveth takes the core quickly, and hops sideways out of the swirling green circles, then continues as they chase him for another few seconds. He realizes too late that he is cut off from the others as small elementals enter the area between, shuffling along having not noticed the elf or the fight raging on the other side.

Kel’ori stands on the other side of the party, sparks of all colors jump from her palms and fingertips, refusing to take form beyond the little sparkles.

Heretica screeches as another of her hands is severed, then turns to swipe at the nearest death knight with one of her remaining four. When she turns, Grimory seizes the moment to plunge claws into her heel, slashing the tendon there. The demoness gives another cry of agony and falls to a knee to relieve the pain.

Anarchaia blinks down as the circle beneath her feet pulses with a flash of green and her face falls to an apprehensive frown. Fel fire explodes around her and she covers herself with her arms and lifts a shield of her own fire, hoping to lessen the burn.

Koltira cringes and runs to the mage. “Ana! Are you okay?”

Taveth slowly backs away from the onslaught, his eyes never straying from the elementals. His heels perch on the edge of the land, where a sheer drop is all that exists below. When he goes to put his weight on his food, his balance is compromised and the teeters. “Help!” His yelp draws the attention of the elementals as they turn and immediately begin converging on him.

Alisbeth slashes at Heretica, but the woman dodges, then slams a fist into the death knight, knocking her away.

Grimory flinches and takes a step toward Alisbeth but is met with an armored forearm. <<Not so fast, off-world scum,>> Heretica hisses and swipes at him. The Illidari ducks and aims to rake his claws along her ribs but receives a sharp elbow into the side of his head before he can connect. He stumbles and groans, palm to his temple.

When the flames subside, Anarchaia gives a quick look at herself, turning her head every which way. She makes a chirp of surprise and pats out a small flame on the hem of her new robes, then smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. I…should watch where I’m standing, I guess. Heh.”

Taveth slips backward from the cliff, holding his breath as he goes into a freefall. The only beings to notice are the little elementals, who group up on the edge to watch the elf’s descent toward a sharp edge and the swirling abyss of space.


	28. Chapter 28

“You bitch!” Alisbeth leaps at the sorceress, bringing her Maw down at the elbow which had hit Grimory in the face.

Kel’ori screams angrily and balls her fists. “_I just want to help!_” She stomps her foot and a sparking purple shield surrounds her. The color shifts like oil in the rain around her unamused expression.

Koltira sets a gentle kiss on Anarchaia’s forehead. “Stop getting lit on fire. Now, light _her_ on fire.” He runs back to swing Byfrost at another of the woman’s arms.

Anarchaia chortles and gives a curt salute. “Yes, Captain Deathweaver.” She blasts the demoness with flames, then shoots Kel’ori a sympathetic grin. “Maybe try fire?” she calls.

Heretica screeches at Alisbeth, slashing at the death knight with sharp nails.

A glint from Taveth’s glasses catches Grimory’s eye and the demon hunter turns just in time to witness his fall. “_Taveth!_” He leaps forward, wings spread, but grunts as one is gripped tightly by one of the shivarra’s remaining hands. He gasps as he’s jerked back. Her large fingers squeeze until a creaking sounds out, followed by a sharp _snap!_ The Illidari cries out, then turns to blow fire into her face until he’s dropped hard to the ground. He grimaces and rolls, the damaged muscle and bone of his wing in a hand.

Alisbeth shrieks as though she herself had been physically harmed. She leaps on the woman’s back and drives the spikes of the Maw into the flesh there.

Koltira jumps away from the fight to pull the demon hunter to safety. “You all right?”

Kel’ori’s nose wrinkles and she squeaks, hopping sideways to get away from the demon hunter. Little bursts flicker from her being, each one a different color. It only stops when she feels she has achieved a safe distance.

Grimory hisses as he’s dragged. He nods, fangs grit and in a pain only a broken limb can supply. “Taveth…” he groans, sitting up.

Anarchaia assists Alisbeth in taking down the shivarra; the demon witch gives a raspy croak as she falls limp beneath her burning limbs and the death knight’s axe. She runs over to assess the damage done to the demon hunter. “Is he all right?”

Kel’ori’s eyes widen, but she remains several paces away. “Tav? What about– Where is he? Where did he go?” She backs away, terror apparent on her features. “He’s supposed to stay close to keep you in check!”

Alisbeth shoves her cousin, who teeters, then falls pathetically to her knees. The death knight crouches beside Grimory and runs gentle fingers through his hair. “I killed her for you.”

Koltira purses his lips. “Okay, but…Taveth. What about Taveth?”

Grimory grabs at Alisbeth’s hand and inhales sharply at the pain in his back. “He fell,” he hisses then cranes his head back to look at the cliffside where Taveth had disappeared.

Anarchaia starts and straightens. “He what? Where?” Not awaiting a response, she runs to the rocky edge and peers into the fel-laced fog below.

Alisbeth pulls free and runs after the mage, Kel’ori pushing herself up to follow as well.

~ * ~

“_Rakkan_!” Taveth shouts. Purple boulders smoke into existence, encasing the frail elf in a protective shell. The cluster slams onto the jutting surface of rock at the bottom of the cliff. Shaking, Taveth falls to his knees and scoots away from the edge.

The high elf stares up the sheer edge of the cliff and sighs as the hopelessness keeps him sitting down. A purple spiral forms beside him before a frantic succubus emerges. She throws herself onto her knees and grabs Taveth’s head in a tight hug against her overly-generous, half exposed breasts.

<<_Master!_ Are you _okay?>>_

Taveth flails, trying to break free from the demoness’s grasp, his eyes wide behind his skewed spectacles. “I’m fine. _I’m fine!_”

She releases him and shoves her fingers between her knees, pressing her chest forward as she puckers her lips to pout at him. <<You had me so worried, Tavy-wavy.>>

He cringes. “Don’t call me that. Ever. What are you doing her, Tryxora? I didn’t summon you!” He inches away from her.

<<I have been working non-stop to return to your side, Master. I love you and I don’t want you to get hurt. Then when I saw you fall, I just…>> She grabs him into her arms again. <<I’m so glad your safe!>>

“Help,” Taveth squeaks at no one.

~ * ~

“Tav?” Anarchaia calls cautiously, swallowing the concern in her voice.

“Taveth!” Alisbeth screams.

Koltira purses his lips at the cliff and the three women, then down at Grimory. “Anything I can do to help?”

Kel’ori falls to the ground, crying into her palms. “My baby brother. No…”

A strange beating echoes from the cliffs. Alisbeth shushes the mage and they all strain to see into the fog. It swirls violently, before huge magenta wings came into view, followed by the pink body of a succubus. Alisbeth readies her axe and growls.

“You monster!”

Grimory shakes his head and assesses the damage done. “I’ll be fine,” he responds, though is altogether uncertain. Still in a great amount of pain, he stands and gnashes his teeth tightly together as the limb retracts into the muscle of his back and shoulders. He turns at the sound of Alisbeth’s cry.

Anarchaia takes a step back as the figure nears, then blinks and cranes her head when the demoness does not attack. “Wait, Ali,” she says cautiously with an outstretched arm.

Koltira runs to the others, Byfrost in hand.

The succubus lands beside the women, then her entire demeanor shifts. Her face pinches like she’s about to cry, and her eyes widen with fear. <<My master fell!>> She says. She reaches out to take the mage by the shoulders. <<You have to help him! My wings aren’t strong enough to carry him. I tried, I really did!>>

Alisbeth lowers her axe and blinks at the demon. “What’s it saying?”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen as she’s shaken and she immediately grasps the demon’s hands with her own in an attempt to stop the jostling. “Uh…m-master? Wings? U-unable…” She gives a sheepish shrug.

“She’s Taveth’s,” Grimory grunts, rubbing at his aching shoulder and ignoring the searing pain still in his back. “She said her wings aren’t enough to lift him.” He pries the succubus from Anarchaia. <<Is he okay?>>

Tryxora grins at the demon hunter. <<Hi there. How are—Wait, no, master fell. He’s okay.>> She sighs wistfully. <<He’s so smart and handsome…>>

Koltira eyes the bruises at the demon hunter’s shoulder blades but chooses to say nothing. “So… Is she flirting or is he okay?”

“She said he’s okay. That’s about all I picked up,” Kel’ori says, boosting from the ground and clearing her eyes. She looks over the edge of the cliff into the thick fog. “Taveth!”

<<Master tried to send me away,>> she says, nodding at the mage. <<But I love him, and I didn’t want him to get hurt, so I didn’t listen. I’m so bad.>> She bites her lower lip and gives her rear a little wiggle, then slaps the cheek and sighs. <<So, can you help him?>>

Grimory’s lips tighten to a line at the demoness before he gently pushes her aside to join Kel’ori at the cliff side. <<We can’t get to him right now,>> he growls, if not at the incessant pain then at the irritation caused by the inconvenience of the situation at hand. He turns and makes to walk along the ridge. “We’ll have to go around.”

Anarchaia follows, fidgeting nervously with her fingers. “I hope he’s okay.” She sighs. “We said we were going to keep a better eye on him…”

Koltira sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll go. The rest of you stay here. Make camp for the night, or something. You rest.” He points directly at the demon hunter. He kisses Anarchaia’s forehead and immediately begins searching for a path down the sheer face.

Grimory’s lips tighten at the corners. He cranes his neck to look at his back but cannot see.

“Wait, I can help,” Kel’ori says. “If you fall I can—”

“Blow him up?” Alisbeth asks on a giggle.

The undead mage starts at the suggestion of Koltira going alone, then quickly steps to follow. “Wait! It’s dangerous to go alone! You know that.”

Koltira holds the mage at arms-length. “I know what I’m doing. How about you help me by holding onto all this heavy equipment?” He holds Byfrost out to her in one hand as the other works the buckle of a pauldron.

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow at Grimory, then gasps. She runs over to him and shoves her cold face against one of his shoulder blades. “Does this help? Is this helping? Are you okay? What else do you need?”

Tryxora skips over to Koltira and smiles at Anarchaia. <<I can catch him if he falls.>> Her eyes bug and she goes stiff, then smiles again. <<S’cuse me, Tavy-wavy’s calling!>> She dives head-first off the cliff into the fog.

Koltira blinks after her then stares at the demon hunter for guidance.

Grimory shudders at the cold, then can’t help smiling. Before he can respond he catches Koltira’s befuddlement and slowly blinks. “She said he’s calling.” He sneers some. “I honestly pity him. Succubi are the worst.”

Anarchaia reflexively extends a hand to take the weapon, then shies away, curling her fingers back into her chest as though they may betray her and reach out again of their own will. “I’d really rather not.”

“Sorry, Ana. I forgot.” Koltira holds out the handle for Grimory to get, though he’s a ways away.

Tryxora zips up into the air over them, then lands beside Anarchaia. <<I love when he lets me cuddle him. Oh!>> She stares at the sword and the demon hunter being held in place and smiles. <<Let’s hurry, please. He’s lonely.>> She grabs Byfrost and slings it over a shoulder as the handle blots from blue to black. She skips to Grimory and holds it out for him to take, as though the sword weighs nothing.

Anarchaia’s brow knits at the sight but she shrugs it off and turns back to the death knight before her. “I mean it. You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone in a place like this.”

Grimory’s thin pupils slide from the black handle to the succubus. <<Thanks, I guess,>> he grumbles and takes it–the handle’s color dying to an unimpressive copper. <<Keep him safe until we can get to him, yeah?>>

Koltira shakes his head and leans close to speak low. “Ana, Grim’s injury is worse than he’s letting on. If something comes this way, Ali is the only one in fighting condition. Excuse me if I’m not excited about that idea. Stay here and keep everyone safe. I won’t be long, I promise.” He straightens as the succubus stands beside him. “Plus, I’ll have…” He blinks at the demon.

<<Tryxora! You can call me Tryx.>>

He blinks again. “She’ll be there.”

Anarchaia purses her lips in a concerned fashion and folds her arms. After quick yet careful consideration, she sighs, defeated. “Fine, but if anything happens to you, I’ll kill you.” She points a finger at him, then at the demoness. “_And you_,” she adds on a hiss.

Alisbeth squishes her face into Grimory’s other shoulder. “Is-iss heffing?”

Grimory sets the blade gingerly aside and chuckles through the pain. “Yes, Ali. Thank you.” He reaches a hand back to pat her as best he can on her head.

Still smiling, Tryxora gets right in Anarchaia’s face. <<Try it and I’ll make sure you never experience pleasure without feeling pain again.>> Her smile widens and she pats the mage on the head. <<Shall we?>> She slings her whip around Koltira’s waist and drags him away before he can kiss Anarchaia goodbye.

He grunts and stumbles backward. “I promise I’ll return. Stay safe.”

Anarchaia scowls after her and balls her fists. “I don’t know what you said, but I’m deciding to take it personally.”

Kel’ori drops back to the ground at the edge of the cliff and sighs into the abyss below. “Great. We’re trusting a demon to get him back.”

“He’ll be fine,” Grimory mumbles in Kel’ori’s direction but not particularly to her. “That succubus…seems to have a thing for him.”

Kel’ori sticks her nose in the air and looks away from Grimory. “Of course you’d vouch for a demon. It’s late. I think. We should make camp.”

Alisbeth rolls her eyes. “Only so I can take care of Grim.” She eases the Redblade from his grasp.

The Illidari’s jaw works beneath the flesh as he glares off into the distance. He hardly notices the sword being taken from his possession.

Anarchaia sighs and turns. “Yes, perhaps it’s best we stay where we are.” She lifts a hand and a couple of sleeping furs, bundled tightly with ragged ropes, appear before the group. She sinks to sit on her heels, chewing idly on a knuckle. “We really need to do a better job of keeping together…”

Alisbeth smiles regardless of the tension and pushes Grimory to one of the furs. “Yes. Let’s all just stay here. Right?”

Kel’ori makes a face as she takes the other fur. “Did anybody bring any food?”

Anarchaia again lifts delicate fingers to summon a small menagerie of baked goods arranged neatly on a table. “I know you aren’t keen on baked goods at the moment, but…”

Grimory sighs tiredly, then winces as he lowers down beneath the furs. He for a moment considers offering some of his meat rations, even going so far as to open his mouth, but instead turns away and onto his injured shoulder. “Thank you, Ali.”

~ * ~

It’s late in the night when Kel’ori stirs and sits up. Alisbeth is huddled over the sleeping demon hunter, setting her icy cheek to the black blotches at his shoulder blades. Anarchaia is at the edge of the cliff, worrying her fingers together and pulling at her gloves as she gazes into the fog below or down the way the succubus had taken Koltira. Quietly, Kel’ori slips from the blanket and takes a thick stick from the fire, then slips away into the darkness.

Her jaw is set as she rushes to the lava pools and finds the pack of imps she’d glimpsed earlier. She hides behind a boulder and tosses a pebble to lure just one. It bounces off the demon’s head; the imp turns and hops around the corner.

“Hey! You’re not suppose—”

Kel’ori swings the branch and smashes in the little skull of the creature. She smirks and lifts it by a leg, then finds a secluded place to build a new fire.

It hadn’t been long before Anarchaia realized she hadn’t even turned to check on the others in quite some time. She cranes her neck to peer behind her, then stands abruptly with a start. “Kel?” she calls quietly as not to wake the slumbering demon hunter. When she gets a mere apathetic shrug from Alisbeth, the undead woman sets off back down the path, figuring the cautious elf would prefer a road more familiar than to wander off into the unknown.

After a while of nervous walking and searching, Anarchaia turns a corner to find a quiet, crackling fire. And over it a spit with the skewered remains of an imp, its flesh charred black in places and both arms crudely torn from its torso. Before it is huddled a figure shadowed by the flames. She takes a step back as not to draw attention to herself, then pauses. A slow hand creeps up to her mouth. “Kel’ori…?” she says quietly, unsure if she wants to be heard or not.

Kel’ori stops and slowly turns her wide eyes on the other mage, her teeth clamped over the muscle of the imp’s forearm, the upper arm already stripped of flesh. She seems to think on it, and finishes tearing off the chunk, then chews quickly. “I said I was hungry,” she growls, as though it perfectly explains her behavior.

Anarchaia takes another step back but stops herself from taking more. “That’s…demon blood,” is all she can manage, eyes wide beneath a brow furrowed with concern. “Why?”

Kel’ori tears the last of the meat of the forearm from the bone and tosses the limb to the ground. “What’s your problem? Do you want me to starve?” She stands and approaches Anarchaia. “I said I was hungry and you gave me cake!”

Anarchaia takes a step back despite herself. “You know we’re not permitted to take anything else from the kitchens unless we’d prepared it ourselves…” She swallows, steeling herself. “Kel, eating demon flesh is dangerous. What would Kalec say?”

Kel’ori frowns and looks away. “When that dog thing burned in the lava it just smelled so good… And I’m so hungry… It’s just a little imp. There can’t be any harm in that.” She gives a shaky smile. “Right?”

Anarchaia sobers and her face softens. “Kel, are you okay? There’s clearly something going on.” She reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder. “You can talk to me…”

Kel’ori jerks her shoulder from the other mage’s grasp. “I’m just hungry, okay?” She turns away and grips a leg of the imp. She grumbles as it doesn’t immediately come free from the hip. “Should have brought a knife. Do you have a knife?”

Anarchaia again furrows her brow, then shakes her head. “Please don’t eat anymore of that. Surely there’s something else that’ll sate you?” She fidgets with her fingers, wanting to keep her from consuming more but not wanting to incur her irritation.

Kel’ori pouts and releases the demon to straiten and cover her face with her palms. “That bacon on the Vinidcaar. I just want some damn bacon. Is that really so bad? This tastes good, too. Why can’t I just have what I want?”

Anarchaia inhales, holds it, then says “The next time breakfast is on, we’ll grab as much as we’re allowed, okay?” She conjures an ornate pocket watch and flicks it open, then crinkles her nose at the still hands. “Whenever that is. But please, for now, just…don’t…eat demons.” _Even though you may have already done something irreversible_. “Come back?”

The high elf drops her hands in defeat. “Okay,” she says, but doesn’t sound too sure about it. She drags her feet as she walks past Anarchaia, a forlorn expression on her face.

The undead woman follows, thinking it of no importance to snuff out the fire her fellow mage had forged. She gestures to the second set of sleeping furs. “When Kolt and Tav return I’ll check the Vindicaar for their breakfast hours, all right?”

Kel’ori waves dismissively, her mood sour. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

Anarchaia’s red pupils flick across the elf’s figure as Kel’ori lowers onto her furs. She chews on the inside of her cheek as she notices. Kel’ori’s normally thin frame now slightly pulled at her dress-like robes, the fabric taught against her stomach. _How long has she been secretly eating imps? And how many?_ she wonders to herself, then turns and is back to the cliffs with more concern in her gaze than had been previously.

~ * ~

It’s hours before Koltira and Taveth approach, the latter panting and sagging with exhaustion. He practically throws himself on the mage and grabs her in a tight hug. “I’ve never been so happy to see you!” He presses his lips to the side of her mask. “Dear gods, please save me.”

Koltira physically jars as the succubus swoops past him and lands behind Taveth, a scowl directed at the mage. The death knight makes a face and sighs, deciding to wait his turn to hug Anarchaia.

“You missed a…great adventure, Ana. So fun.”

“Tav! Thank gods you’re okay!” Anarchaia emphatically returns the embrace, then gives a nervous chuckle at his words, unsure if he’s serious. She then straightens at the glare directed in her direction. “Why? What happen? Did she hurt you?” She grabs Taveth by the shoulders and shakes. “Show me where!”

Before Taveth can react, the succubus locks her eyes with the mage’s, whose glow pink through her mask. <<It’s okay, master, she won’t touch you again.>>

Taveth flails. “She’s my friend, let her go!”

Tryxora sighs and ends the charm. <<She doesn’t get to touch you.>>

“I’m the master. I give the orders.”

She bites her lower lip and hums. <<I love it when you dom me.>> She slaps her rear and hisses, then smiles.

“Why? Why do you do that? Why can’t you just be evil like the others. Go away. I order you back to the nether.”

<<But I don’t want to go.>>

Taveth holds out his hands at the demon as he faces Anarchaia and raises his eyebrows.

Anarchaia gives her head a small shake as the haze in her brain seems to lift. “U-uhm,” she begins, then blinks at the two before her. “Oh! Uh…I guess she has to accompany us, then,” she says through grit teeth. “Unless killing her is an option.” Smoke wafts and swirls up from between her clenched fingers.

<<Try it,>> Tryxora hisses, a palm on her whip.

Koltira steps between the mage and the demon, his hands out. “Please, there’s no need to get hostile. Let’s just calm down and let Taveth get some sleep.”

The succubus gasps. <<That’s right! My poor master is so tired.>> She grabs him to her and Taveth’s eyes widen in panic.

“_AAAnaaa_,” he whines.

Anarchaia conjures a third fur and it unravels near the others, sighing as she watches the scholar get dragged away. “I hate demons so much,” she mumbles while slowly folding her arms and glowering. She casts the death knight a sideways glance. “She didn’t touch _you_, did she?”

Koltira’s nose wrinkles as he finally gets the chance to wrap an arm around the mage’s waist. “No, thank gods. Couldn’t understand a thing she said, either.” He leads her around the camp to a better spot for keeping watch and smiles down at her. “Care to keep me company?”

She willingly follows, then sets herself atop a warm, flat rock overlooking the marred and battered land. She smiles up at him and lifts a hand to pull him down beside her. “Always.”


	29. Chapter 29

Grimory groans as the fuzzy grogginess of sleep lifts from his head. He sits up, then immediately sucks in a pained breath at the worsened agony in his back. He reaches beneath an arm to hold his spongy, black and yellow flesh. “It should have healed some by now,” he hisses beneath his breath. A bead of sweat finds its way down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away.

Alisbeth frowns and sets a palm over one of his bruises. “I thought I was helping… Maybe you need a healer?”

The Illidari sighs, stressed, and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine for the time being,” he says and rests a reassuring hand on her leg. “As long as I don’t need to fly anywhere, yeah?” He stands and begins to stretch then stops, having already forgotten and subsequently being reminded of the pain. “Tav’s back?”

Alisbeth nods excitedly. “They got back a couple hours ago. Just…don’t go near him.” She motions at the succubus standing over the sleeping elf, her pink arms folded as she stares down at him.

Grimory sneers at the demoness. <<Mind waking him for us, yes?>> he says in Eredun. <<We need to continue on.>> He catches sight of the two on the high ledge and motions for them.

Koltira looks over his shoulder. “And we have life. Should we wake the others and get moving?”

Anarchaia nods and stands, her knees cracking as though just waking themselves. She holds out a hand for Koltira and offers an endearing smile. “Yes. The sooner we’re off this rock, the better.”

Tryxora thinks on it, then nods and smiles slyly. She slips under the fur with the high elf. A moment later his eyes snap open and he practically flies out from under the fur.

“_Go home! I dismiss you! Leave!_” He points a stern finger at her.

The succubus pouts as a purple portal opens and she’s forced through.

“Thank gods,” Taveth says on a sigh.

Koltira smirks. “Well, now that she’s out of our hair… Who wants to wake Kel’ori?”

Anarchaia looks expectantly at Grimory, who stiffens and turns to busy himself with rolling and securing his furs. She sighs and makes her way—now more swiftly after having a few days to master her heels—over to kneel beside the remaining sleeping elf. She shakes her gently. “Kel, it’s time to move on.”

Kel’ori sits straight upright, her eyes wide and confused. “We’re what? Hmm?” She looks around, blinking. “Oh. Right. Thank you, Ana.”

Anarchaia smiles, then quickly places her hands on Kel’ori’s shoulders to keep her from getting up. Using herself as a shield, she conjures a damp cloth and removes the smudges of blood from the elf’s lips. She pats her on the shoulder and stands to send away the sleeping furs.

The high elf’s eyes go wide and she wipes the back of her hand over her lips. “Th-thanks again.”

Alisbeth flails her hands and hops from one foot to the other. “Let me do that Grim,” she whines. “Don’t hurt yourself _wooorse_.”

Taveth blinks at the bruises and purses his lips. He puts his hands together and approaches the demon hunter, then holds out a green stone as offering. “Koltira told me what happened. It’s…not much but…”

Grimory furrows his brow and does his best to hide the concern in his voice. “Is it really that bad?” he responds as coolly as he can while taking the crystal and inhaling its dust after crushing it in a fist. The bruises subside, but only to small, less noticeable discolorations. He stretches his arm and gives Taveth a grateful, genuine smile. “Thanks, Tav.”

“It really is that bad… Was,” Koltira says. “Okay, lets get a move on. We got that thing, we killed the bitch.”

“There were two bitches,” Alisbeth sighs dreamily, her gaze stuck on the swirling clouds in the sky.

The death knight makes a face. “Oh. Right.”

Anarchaia gives Kel’ori an apprehensive smile then turns to Koltira and mouths the word _language._

Koltira cocks an eye at the mage. “What are you going to do about it?”

Grimory swallows a groan and nods. “I’d fly up and look for more spires, but…” He gestures up the path with his chin. “Best we just continue until we see something.” He grabs the dreamy Alisbeth by the hand and pulls her along.

Kel’ori slips in beside her brother to hook her arm through his and lean her head on his cheek. “You had me so worried. Jerk.”

“Eh-heh. Wasn’t my fault. But I’m sorry?”

She shrugs and stares over at Anarchaia for a long time.

“I’m sure you’d thoroughly enjoy any punishment I’d have for you, _death knight_,” Anarchaia responds with a playful sneer, leaning against him as they walk. “But by all means, press your luck.” She catches Kel’ori’s gaze and gives her the slightest of head tilts before offering a conservative smile. “Sorry again, Tav. We promise to keep an eye on you. “

A purple swirl appears in front of the group. Tryxora steps out and cracks her whip, a hand planted on her hip. <<You had your chance, _mage_. I’ll be keeping an eye on my master.>>

Taveth groans, then whimpers as she grabs him into a tight hug. “Tryx, how did you get here? I sent you away!”

She giggles. <<Silly master, I just used my back door. You’re free to use my other backdoor any ti—>>

“Gah! No!” Taveth shoves away from her and puts himself on the other side of Kel’ori. “Stop! D-don’t say things like that, it’s…horrifying.”

Koltira grins and puts an arm over the mage’s shoulders, pulling her closer to speak low. “I may not be able to understand a word she says, but that doesn’t make this any less funny.”

From the front of the group Grimory snerks.

Anarchaia lowers a brow but smiles all the same. “Something about doors? But yes, I’m starting to agree…despite the cost to Taveth. Heh.”

The company travels onward until they reach a path littered with demons, lava, and constructs supporting tomes and tools. Felhounds bound up and down the way, followed by inquisitors and the like.

“Looks like the right way,” the undead mage says to herself more than anyone.

Tryxora sighs, eyeing Taveth, though keeping a distance from Kel’ori. <<It’s almost like you’re _trying_ to get caught by Mistress Apostriss.>>

Taveth stops and stares at his demon. “That’s…exactly what we’re doing.”

<<But why?>>

“Just tell us where Apostriss is.”

<<But…why?>>

Kel’ori balls a fist and advances on the demoness. “I may not understand much Eredun, but I know you’re just being a difficult bitch. Just tell us where she is!”

Tryxora skitters backward, nearly tripping over her own hooves, her eyes wide. She cowers and covers her head with her arms. <<Please don’t eat me!>>

Alisbeth gives a nasally _ha!_ and leans her head on Grimory’s shoulder. “Kel has a super power.”

The demon hunter furrows his brow at the lines spoken behind him. “She begged her not to eat her,” he responds to the woman beside him. “Maybe Kel has a reputation we don’t know about.” He chuckles reservedly.

Alisbeth scrunches her nose. “Eew.”

Anarchaia simply lifts her eyebrows at the exchange, then, visions of the night before fresh in her mind, cringes. “Eh. Perhaps Grim would have better luck convincing her…”

Kel’ori blinks, having understood just enough to make her eyes flit to the others. “Whatever.”

Taveth sighs. “Ha ha, Tryx. Please. Just take us?”

<<Okay, just keep _that_ away from me.>> She points emphatically at Kel’ori, then pushes past Grimory—running her long, burgundy fingertips across his abdomen—to lead the way. <<She’s in this tower up here. What’s your plan?>>

Grimory ignores the gesture, then upon seeing the tower calls forth his massive claws and pushes past her at a brisk pace. <<Slay her.>>

“Grim wait!” Anarchaia calls and lifts a hand to stop him with magic. “No rushing in. You remember what happened last time, no?”

He squirms inwardly under the discomfort of being paralyzed and growls. “Yes, fine. Together, then.”

Koltira withdraws Byrfrost and nods to the demon hunter. “Let me take the hits this time, all right?”

Tryxora wrings her hands together. <<Oh. Okay. I just used to know her. Before I was bound to this adorable thing.>> She squishes the squirming Taveth into a hug.

“I’ll keep you safe, Grim!” Alisbeth runs into the tower, her axe held high.

Grimory narrows an eye at Koltira. “You think I can’t handle myself because I had one mishap?” He follows Alisbeth into the tower, then immediately ducks from a sweeping claw of the gargantuan demoness.

<<More pathetic filth to come for my head?>> Apostriss screeches. <<Come, then!>>

Koltira pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it.” When the death knight gets inside, he pulls the demoness to him. “No, I just don’t think it’d be wise to exacerbate the situation.”

Alisbeth scrunches her face and pulls Apostriss back to her. “Excuse me, I was hitting that.”

Anarchaia steps forward to place herself between Taveth and the tower, not permitting him farther. “I think those three can handle it. Heh.”

Taveth makes a face. “Since when do you keep me away from a fight? I’m not going to get hurt, Ana. Come on.” He takes her hand and tries to urge her to the tower.

Anarchaia purses her lips and refuses to move despite how little she weighs. She narrows her eyes, grip on his hand tightening. “You’ve been sent to the infirmary once already and _fallen off a cliff_.”

Apostriss, enraged by the jerking about, hisses and kicks at Alisbeth then swipes at Koltira with finely filed nails.

Grimory reacts quickly and easily severs the sweeping arm before it can make contact with the death knight. He grits his fangs, however, when a second set of claws rakes across his back.

Taveth shrugs, his eyes wide with insistent innocence. “I landed just fine! The pit lord was just a fluke.”

Tryxora giggles. <<That meteor was pretty spectacular.>> She sobers and stands beside the undead woman, her arms crossed over her chest. <<But I agree with this one. No more almost-dying. It’s scary.>>

Kel’ori rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what’s going on, but if it keeps you from being a dead jackass, I’m all for it.” She settles herself on the other side of Anarchaia, her arms folded beneath her breasts.

Alisbeth jumps in front of the demon hunter, her lips turned to a frown. “What did I say? I’m _protecting_ you. Let me protect you!” she shrieks, hacking at the sorceress with her axe.

Koltira slices the corner of Byfrost through the sorceress’s back; blood spills out, trailing to pool beneath her.

Apostriss screeches obscenities at the new wound and turns on Koltira instead. She lifts a hand—one of many remaining—and envelopes him in swirling tendrils of shadow that slowly grip him tightly.

Grimory bites back a growl. “I’ll be fine, Ali,” he responds with restraint, then ducks beneath the casting arm to slash at her armored torso.

“Do you promise?” Alisbeth asks, bringing her axe around to try taking another arm.

Anarchaia once more tightens her grip on his hand and her jaw tenses. “You’re staying here with us. No compromises.”

Taveth purses his lips. “You’re willing to keep yourself out of the fight just to keep me out of it? What if they need you?”

Anarchaia nods sternly though hides her concern behind her mask. “Correct.”

Taveth folds his arms over his chest to mimic the stance of the females in front of him.

“Yes!” Grimory barks, his irritation finally making itself known. He cringes as he’s showered with demon blood, then, annoyance reaching a culmination, buries his claws into Apostriss’ unarmored gut. She cries out and swipes at him but staggers when he dodges and steps away, flooding the floor with red.

Alisbeth glares at the demon hunter. “There’s no—” she hacks off another limb, “—need—” she buries her axe in the demon’s sternum, “—to yell at me!” She brings her axe around on the stumbling Apostriss and cuts halfway through her neck. The death knight yanks the Maw free and stomps out of the tower.

Anarchaia’s lips tighten as she restrains herself from laughing, then turns at the sound of Alisbeth’s yelling and the now familiar noises of a dying demon. She blinks, opens her mouth to inquire once the death knight is near enough, then recalls the events near the lava pool and closes it again.

Grimory growls and kicks at Apostriss’ lifeless head while muttering obscenities in Eredun. When satisfied he turns and follows back to the group.

Taveth sighs at the others’ approach. “Back to Destiny Point, then?”

Alisbeth makes a U-turn and stomps off toward the main path, not waiting for the confirmation of their return plans.

Anarchaia blinks at Alisbeth, then Grimory and Koltira in turn. “What happened?”

The Illidari scoffs and glances away. “Nothing,” he mumbles as the mage bustles past him.

“Ali, wait!” Anarchaia calls, pettiness over nearly being murdered set aside for the moment. “I’m going to teleport us!”

Alisbeth returns, her arms folded over her chest and her nose in the air as she refuses to look at anyone.

Koltira purses his lips. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Anarchaia inhales sharply, then decides to keep her words to herself. She turns and opens a portal back to Destiny Point.

Grimory steps through and immediately recognizes, and makes his way toward, Illidan.

Alisbeth sits on a rock and occupies herself by pretending her axe is the most interesting thing in the world. Koltira and Taveth go to Turalyon to update him on the situation.

Anarchaia stops Kel’ori when the others have safely ventured through. “Kel, hold on. We need to talk.”

Kel’ori stops and gives a confused smile. “Um…sure? What’s up?”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed?” Anarchaia gestures to the straining, dress-like robes the other girl is wearing. “Kel, the weird cravings, the sporadic spells, and now this? You don’t think it’s strange?”

The high elf folds her arms, not looking where Anarchaia gestured, and scoffs. “I’m stressed, okay? If you haven’t noticed, we’re on an _alien planet_. And… You know…”

Anarchaia bristles, patience wearing thin. “Kel’ori, you need to see someone! I’m afraid that…what happened…may have _a-affected you_…”

“PTSD. Yeah. You stopped me for that? I mean, maybe, but I’ll be fine.” She waves a dismissive hand at the other mage. “Come on, your portal is about to close, and I want food.”

Anarchaia grabs said hand by the wrist, lips a stern line. “Kel. I mean it.”

Kel’ori growls and jerks her hand away. “You mean _what_, Ana? Maybe you’re the one imagining things? I’m fine.”

The portal beside them closes with a quiet hum and Anarchaia grits her teeth. “I think you’re…ill. I think you should see someone.” She sighs and taps all her fingertips together. “I don’t think this is PTSD. I think it’s just…_P_.”

Kel’ori’s nostrils flair. “You’re keeping me here because you think I need to go to the bathroom?” She shifts uncomfortably. “I mean, I do, but I don’t see how this is helping. Just open the portal and let us get back to the others. Right?”

“Pregnant!” Anarchaia suddenly barks. “I think you’re _pregnant!_” She pauses then squares her shoulders. “You need to see someone. I’m not gonna let you live in disillusion.”

Kel’ori sneers and turns away, then suddenly spins on the other mage. Green fire envelopes her fists. “_Don’t say that word!_” She advances on Anarchaia, angry tears pooling along the lower lids of her eyes. “Open the fucking portal, Ana. I won’t ask again.”

The younger mage shrinks away in fear. She lifts a shaking hand and the portal reappears. “A-after you…”

Kel’ori stomps through and past Taveth as he tries to ask what’s going on. She takes the Lightforged Beacon and fights the urge to pass out; instead vomiting to the side. She runs away, embarrassed, and practically hurls herself through the portal to Dalaran. Once there she runs to the nearest tavern and orders herself a glass of expensive whiskey.


	30. Chapter 30

Koltira stops Anarchaia as she comes through her portal. “What happened? Are you two okay?”

Anarchaia jumps, still jittery from their interaction, then sighs and nods. “Yeah, just…” She for a moment thinks about not telling him. “Have you noticed anything strange about her lately?”

Koltira blinks as Taveth joins them. “Um…she’s been eating a lot? Well, hungry a lot. She seems obsessed with that bacon?”

“Who, Kel?” Taveth nods. “She’s…off.” He glances at Tryxora, who is grinning lovingly at an uncomfortable Turalyon. “Tryx is afraid of her… Nobody’s afraid of Kel’ori! Let alone thinks she’s going to _eat_ them. But I mean, it’s Tryx. She’s…”

<<I’m what?>> she asks right behind him.

Taveth jumps. “Y-you’re, uh, s-special?”

<<Aww!>> Tryxora wraps herself around Taveth and he grimaces desperately.

Anarchaia’s eyelids lower at the scene. She shakes her head and turns back to Koltira while Taveth is somewhat occupied. <<I found her eating an imp,>> she whispers in Gutterspeak, voice low.

Koltira blinks rapidly. <<That doesn’t seem…normal… Probably not a great idea to have let her go through the beacon alone?>>

The undead girl perks and looks around. “She did?! I’ll be right back!” She disappears in a flurry of sparkles. Once back on the Vindicaar, she scrambles, asking each passing person, before finally running through the portal to Dalaran.

Koltira’s brow lowers. “Okay, everyone, time to go,” he shouts, waving the others to follow.

Taveth pries free of his demon. “Tryx, will you please go back to the Nether for now? Please? Just until we return to the surface.”

She thinks on it. <<Okay!>> She kisses his cheek and runs through a purple swirl.

Alisbeth stomps to the beacon and teleports before the others, clenching her jaw tightly to keep from screaming.

Grimory allows Alisbeth and Taveth through the beacon until only he and Koltira remain. He motions to the beacon. “After you.”

Koltira sighs and gives the demon hunter a sympathetic look. “She’ll get over it.”

Grimory lowers his gesturing arm and sighs then uses the hand to run over his hair instead. “I know she will. But until then…fuck me, I guess, yeah?”

Koltira shrugs. “You could just…apologize for snapping at her. I know it’s not your fault, but…what is logic to her, right?” He goes through the beacon and meets the others on the Vindicaar. “Okay, so, where did—”

“Dalaran,” Taveth says. “Already asked around.”

Grimory growls in frustration and follows. “All of them?” he asks Taveth with an unamused stare.

Taveth purses his lips. “No, Ali is bothering the gnome by the portal.”

“Thanks,” the demon hunter mutters, giving Taveth a quick pat on the shoulder as he passes and heads down the stairs for the portal.

Taveth’s eyebrows lower. “Why do I get the feeling that those two are having a fight of some kind?”

Koltira shrugs and steers the elf to the portal. “Alisbeth was being annoying, Grim got annoyed, now she’s mad at him. I’m way too familiar with that.” He chuckles.

Grimory catches sight of Alisbeth and sighs, steeling himself. “Ali,” he begins cautiously.

Alisbeth blinks at the demon hunter. “Grim,” she replies with the same tone.

Koltira purses his lips and drags Taveth through the portal to give the other two some privacy.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” the Illidari blurts, eyes more stern than sympathetic. “I shouldn’t have.”

Alisbeth sighs as she looks him over. “Have you learned your lesson?”

Grimory blinks, brow knit, then slowly nods.

Alisbeth grins wide. “Where do you think the others went? Let’s play hide and seek with them!” She drags him through the portal.

Grimory stumbles after her and into the afternoon streets of Dalaran. “My guess is a tavern. That’s where they always are, yeah?” He snorts a laugh. “And I’m sure Taveth is sloppy drunk again.”

Alisbeth laughs. “I bet you’re right! One-hundred gold to you if they’re in a tavern.”

Grimory follows loosely. “One hundred, eh? I bet two hundred they’re specifically at the Nighthearts’.”

“Family gets free drinks, so I bet you’re right.”

They find Koltira and Taveth at a table with Ervaen.

Alisbeth runs over and sits in her eldest cousin’s lap. “Buy me a whiskey!”

Ervaen blinks slowly down at his cousin, then chuckles quietly and messes her hair. “Whiskey, eh? Here, just take the rest of my brandy.”

Grimory takes a seat across from everyone, leaving as much space between as he can.

Alisbeth takes a gulp of his drink and makes a face. “It’s just not the same. So, what are you boys conspiring about in here?”

“We’re not conspiring,” Taveth blurts.

Ervaen gives a playful roll of his eyes and takes the empty glass from her. “They were just recanting to me your journeys on Argus thus far. Though, I recall there being more to your party. What’ve you done with Kel’ori?” He throws a patient smile to his little brother.

As though prompted by the mere mention of the name, Grimory stops a passing barmaid with a hand and orders a hard drink.

Taveth’s eyes flick to the demon hunter for a split second before he stares at his hands clasped on the table. “Eh-heh. The mages had a fight and she came back to Dalaran without us and then Ana followed her and…now we can’t find either of them.”

“Figured why not go somewhere they’ll think to come looking for us and get a drink at the same time,” Koltira says, then swallows his mouthful of gin.

Ervaen lifts a blond brow at both the high elf and death knight in turn. “I’d ask if I should be concerned, but that sounds exactly like Kel.”

Koltira chuckles. “She’s…quite the handful.”

Taveth makes a face and nods in agreement.

“An understatement.” Ervaen smiles and orders another glass of brandy as well as a small glass of whiskey for Alisbeth.

_A couple of handfuls._ Grimory sneers and mutters “Shut the fuck up,” into his glass.

Taveth eyes the demon hunter but says nothing.

~ * ~

As Kel’ori waits for her drink, she spots a familiar green face with oil smudges in the corner with some friends. She smiles reservedly and gives a small wave.

Gildwynn’s ears lift in the slightest of ways at the familiar face across the bar. He digs around in the leather bag slung across the back of his chair before making his way over. “Hey, doll!” he chirps with a grin, which falters at the sight of her tightened dress. “U-uh…how’ve you—…how’ve you been?”

Kel’ori forces a brighter smile. “I’ve been great!” she lies. “Just got back from Argus. Taking a…small break. How’ve you been?” She fiddles absently with the rocks glass on the table.

“All right, I suppose,” the goblin responds, picking at a nail nonchalantly. “Oh! Uh…Bilgecat found this.” He holds out his other hand, slightly cupped as to hide the object within—a contraceptive charm on a leather thong. “Thought you’d…be missing it. Heh.”

Without warning, Kel’ori bursts into tears and throws herself on the goblin to hug him close. “Thank gods! You have no idea how happy it makes me that I lost it before we…had our fun,” she says quietly, eyeing other patrons. “I lied. I’ve been going through hell. And I’m so tired of putting on a brave face.”

Gildwynn hesitates, not having expected the outburst, then comfortingly pats her on the back. “Woah, hey. It’s fine. Don’t cry. Want to…go somewhere to talk about it? Heh.”

Kel’ori eyes the patrons again. “Uh-um. Yeah? Probably a good idea, huh?”

Gildwynn lifts a hand to help her to her feet and pays the elf’s tab before pulling her from the tavern and into a quiet side street away from the main roads. “So, spill. What’s up? Anything I can do to help?”

Kel’ori takes a deep breath and looks skyward. “Ana thinks I’m…” She clears her throat and chews on her bottom lip. “Preg…nant…”

Gildwynn’s ears pull back and his smile grows pained. “Oh…oh yeah? A-and…?” He stops himself, realizing any question he asks would come off as offensive. “Are you…happy? About that?”

“_No!_” Kel’ori practically shouts. “I feel like _crap!_ I thought this misery wasn’t supposed to even happen this early and I was wearing the talisman for a _reason_, you know, and why didn’t I stop to check.” She straightens and wipes her eyes, then smiles down at the goblin. “I guess I’m at least glad it’s you. That’s…a huge relief. You have no idea.”

Gildwynn’s ears fully pull back like that of a frightened cat. “Oh. Yeah. A relief. Heh.” He swallows. “I-is there—”

“There you are!” Anarchaia bustles down the alleyway toward the two. “You shouldn’t run off like that, Kel!” She stops and looks down at the pale goblin, her demeanor instantly changing. “Oh. Gildwynn. Hey.”

The high elf wipes her eyes again and regards the other mage. “Oh. Hi, Ana. Um… So, you seem to have been right.” She holds up the talisman on the broken leather cord. “It came off at Gildwynn’s place. Such a relief, right? So…um…everything’s all good.” She forces a small laugh, though her face suddenly washes over with new panic.

Gildwynn clears his throat before Anarchaia can respond, a mixture of hurt and confusion in his throat. “U-uh, actually, doll, you had it on when we…were…y’know. Heh.”

Anarchaia closes her mouth and her lips purse to an apprehensive line. <<You didn’t tell him,>> she says in Thalassian, on nearly a whisper.

Kel’ori stares between the two. <<Why the hell would I tell him?>> She frowns and wrings her hands. “No. But, you found it at your place. I-it could still be…” She slaps her palms over her face and shakes her head. “No. no. It has to be you, okay? It _has_ to be. Please.”

Gildwynn furrows his blond brow, concerned. He glances between the two. “Who…else could it be?” he asks quietly and in as a non-accusatory tone as he can muster.

Anarchaia swallows and looks nervously between the two before her as well.

Kel’ori pouts once and disappears in a flurry of purple sparkles and yellow cinders.

Anarchaia and Gildwynn exchange looks. The goblin fidgets. “Ana, what’s going on?”

Anarchaia frowns. “I…don’t think I’m allowed to tell you.” She sighs once more and pats Gildwynn on the head, then turns. “I’ll keep you updated. I promise.”

The goblin swats at her hand in annoyance and scowls after her. The scowl, however, fades to a somber frown after a second. “Yeah. Please do.”

The undead mage stops just as she reaches the busy main road. She taps at her chin, brow knit in thought. A familiar voice catches her ear and she turns to see Alisbeth pulling Grimory along like a disobedient pet on a leash. She watches them go, then sets herself on a nearby bench to think alone.

~ * ~

Kel’ori’s left ear flicks as tuneless pipe music reaches it. Without uncovering her face, she sits on the couch.

“I’m pretty sure the bell still works,” Docra says across from the mage. She sets her teacup in the saucer and slides it onto the table, then pours Kel’ori a cup. “What is it this time?”

“I’m pregnant,” she mumbles.

“You’re still upset about that?”

The high elf’s hands lower to stare at the priestess. “What do you mean ‘still’? Did…did you _know?_ Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s an unfortunate side effect of the Light. I thought that’s what all the nonsense was about last time. Figured you’d tell me when you were ready.” She stands and withdraws a set of blue robes from a bin on the shelves. “These are a bit bigger. They’ll look less uncomfortable.”

Kel’ori stops and hiccups up at the blood elf, her eyes scanning over the black form-fitting silky dress with three-quarter sheer sleeves. “You’re wearing the dress I made you.”

“I am.”

“Do you like it?” she asks as Docra leads her to the bathroom by an elbow.

“It shows too much cleavage.”

“But…do you _like_ it?”

The priestess blinks. “I do. Thank you.” She closes the very lost-looking Kel’ori in the bathroom.

~ * ~

Anarchaia chews on her lip before standing and disappearing in a swirl of sparkles. When she reappears she’s standing before Kel’ori’s door. She knocks tentatively. At the sound of silence, she presses a palm to the wood, easily unlocking any wards holding it shut. Finding no one inside, she replaces the locks and takes a moment to think in the hallway. A thought strikes her and she makes a face down the corridor, at the stairway leading to the upper floors. Reluctantly, she ascends and allows her feet to lead her to another familiar door. She hesitates—as is now second nature to her—then knocks.

Kalecgos opens the door and his eyelids lower for a split second before he recovers. “It’s not open for renegotiation, Miss Starling.”

Anarchaia erratically waves both her hands in a mixture of annoyance and dismissal. “Nono, I’m not here for that. I was just wondering if Kel’ori happened to be here?”

He blinks at the mage. “No. Are you saying you’ve misplaced my apprentice?”

Anarchaia swallows, for a second considering lying but knowing he won’t be fooled. “Yes. We had a…disagreement. She ran off and I can’t seem to find her.”

Kalecgos crosses an arm over his chest and reaches his other hand up to tap his chin. “Well, to find her, I’d figure one must know what mood she’s in. She might go one place when she’s looking for a good time, and another place when she’s upset. Have you tried her bedroom? She likes to throw tantrums in there when she’s angry.”

Anarchaia deflates, comforted by his lax posture. “I checked her room…sorry, heh. She wasn’t there.” She taps her chin as well. “I don’t…” A sigh escapes her. She then perks. “Wait, no. I might know where she is.” She turns, tailored robes swirling. “Thank you, Archmage!”

Kalecgos smiles. “Of course. Tell her I expect an update soon.” He says it as though it isn’t a request, though his voice gives the smallest hint of concern.

“Will do!” She disappears in a flash and reappears back near her bench. She pokes her head into a few taverns before finding the correct one and stepping inside as though unbothered. “Grim.”

The demon hunter jumps at the sound of his name right beside him and turns. “Oh. What’s up?”

“Something important’s come up. Come with me please?”

He hesitates, unease filling him, but he downs the rest of his drink and follows anyway. “What’s this abo—” He furrows his brow as she grabs him by the hand.

“Don’t let go,” she mutters as they disappear in a flurry of sparkles.

He scowls when they reappear outside a drab looking house. “Don’t you need some kind of consent to do that?”

“Not technically.” She knocks on the door, still holding his hand tightly, lest he try to escape.

A black cat weaves out of a small door on a hinge in one square windowpane. He mrows from his window box perch, then jumps down to rub at the mage’s ankles. A moment later the door opens. Docra’s eyes scan slowly over the demon hunter from head to toe. She nods. “He’ll do.”


	31. Chapter 31

Grimory’s brow furrows. “_I’ll do?_” He groans apprehensively in his throat when he’s pulled past the woman and into her house. “What are we doing here?” he hisses into Anarchaia’s ear but is seemingly ignored.

“Is she here?” the mage asks after rubbing her ankle lovingly back against the cat.

Docra closes the door. “Bathroom. He knows about the enchantment? I only work with fully consenting parties.” She motions at the couch for them to sit.

“Oh! Uh…” Anarchaia looks at the man beside her, who scowls.

“Consent? _Fooooor?_”

“I actually brought him here for something else. Heh.”

Docra blinks at the mage, then the demon hunter. “Oh. That’s a shame. He’d sire attractive children.” She goes to the bathroom door and opens it. “You’ve been in here a rather unorthodox amount of time.”

“What the hell are these?” Kel’ori motions at the empire waist and high neckline of the robes.

“I’m sorry your breasts are covered. Come on, your friend is here.” Docra drags the mage out by a hand.

“Sire—what?”

Anarchaia gives a helpless shrug and a nervous laugh.

Grimory then stiffens at the sight of Kel’ori and the air turns thick. “What did you bring me here for?” he growls beneath his breath.

Kel’ori’s eyes go wide and she rips free from the priestess. She slams the bathroom door and locks herself inside.

Docra blinks. “It’s a shame it’s too late to terminate. You’re still a child, yourself.” She turns to the others. “I take it she doesn’t like him.”

The mage rips the door back open. “_Too late?_ It’s been _three weeks_, Docra.” She slams the door and continues to shout about timelines and impossibilities.

Grimory straightens. “Terminate? _Terminate what?_” he practically shouts.

Anarchaia fidgets, unable to bring herself to say it.

The blood elf shrugs and collects her tea set. “Please don’t shout too loud, my upstairs neighbors can be fussy. Tea?” She doesn’t wait for a response and puts a kettle of water on to boil. “I’ll get my cakes if you’ll come out, Kel.”

She rips the bathroom door open. “They make me puke!” She slams the door again, then rips it back open. “And maybe I didn’t want to terminate, anyway!”

Once the door is slammed closed again, Docra sighs. “So, what’s he doing here?” She tilts her head to look at them. “Do you like cakes?”

The demon hunter gives the mage beside him a pleading look.

“I-I wanted you to…keep your word. About talking with her. And now she’s…u-uhm—”

“No,” he hisses, demeanor instantly changing at the implication. “Don’t even finish that sentence.” He turns on Docra. “_What are you so nonchalant for?_ Surely this isn’t what I think it is. Please tell me it’s not!”

“No cakes?” She pulls a plate of small cakes out of the cupboard and drops them into a small trash bin under the sink. When the water is boiled, she resets her tea tray, plopping a large sachet of herbs into the pot, and sets it on the coffee table, then takes her seat. Her gaze locks onto his. “And what do you think it is?”

Grimory brings his lower lip in to chew on it, then growls and turns, running a hand through his hair. “I’m leaving.”

“No!” Anarchaia grabs him by the horn and he glares. “You aren’t. You two are going to talk. Everyone’s sick of the tension you two are causing.”

“_Two?!_ What have I done that is so insufferable?!”

“What did you do?” Kel’ori bursts from the bathroom. “_What did you do? You’re really going to—_”

Docra reaches over her shoulder and the mage’s voice goes silent. The priestess leans forward to scoop the sachet out with a spoon and pour four cups of tea. “I asked you to keep it down. Sit.”

Kel’ori flops onto the other end of the couch, her head turned away from the others. Her blue eyes slide down to look at the cup Docra slides down the table at her.

Grimory stops, allowing her words to pummel him in the back. His jaw works as he seemingly chooses what to say next. “Look,” he finally manages and turns. “I know that I was reckless and shouldn’t have let that inquisitor get his gaze into me, but…” His fists tremble at his sides. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I was too weak to stop anything. I’m sorry I’m not a good enough demon hunter to control him.” His face softens. “And I’m sorry for what you had to go through.”

Kel’ori opens her mouth to respond and Docra snaps her fingers, then points at the tea; Kel’ori grabs it and quietly drinks. The blood elf reaches up and a white tendril grasps the demon hunter and drags him away from the door, then deposits him on the couch across from her. She hints for him to drink his own tea, then takes a long sip of her own.

“Will someone explain what’s happening before I start making assumptions?” Docra says calmly.

Grimory folds his arms and huffs, turning away from the tea and women.

“Pregnant,” Anarchaia says quietly. “She’s pregnant. W-with…”

“Bullshit.” Grimory sneers but does not turn.

Docra blinks at them. “Yes. I wasn’t aware it was such a big deal. Or that it required the attention of an Illidari.” She absently pulls a piece of lint from the knee of her dress.

“It was _him!_” Kel’ori bursts, pointing an accusing finger at Grimory.

The priestess blinks and sips her tea. “You’re saying this demon hunter impregnated you? That’s…absurd. Virtually impossible, actually. Unless my enchantment is successful, then at least the men have a small glimmer of hope.”

Grimory turns at the word _absurd_, a small glimmer of hope noticeable in his own eyes. “It _wasn’t me_. How many times do I have to go over this? What do I have to do to prove it to you?”

Standing over him, beside the couch, Anarchaia sets her hand on his shoulder. “If everyone tells you you’re wrong, what’s more likely, Kel? That you’re wrong, or that everyone else is?”

Kel’ori sniffles weakly. “But Gildwynn says it can’t be his. And I _know_ I wasn’t pregnant before any of this.”

Docra sits quietly for a moment before setting her apathetic gaze on the demon hunter. “You’re all still leaving out an important detail, and I know it. I know I’m not part of this, but, for whatever reason Kel’ori has decided I’m her friend. So, if she says you raped her, but everyone else says you didn’t, how could she have gotten mixed up?”

The high elf looks away, her shoulders shaking as she sobs quietly at the mere thought of Spinewing.

Grimory opens his mouth to respond, then grits his teeth in anger and turns away.

“Grim…can’t control his demon. He got loose. Did…that.” Anarchaia gestures to Kel’ori with her head. “Kel doesn’t understand how the Illidari function and can’t comprehend that Grim has two beings inside him.”

Docra quietly gets up from her spot and goes to a bookshelf. She grabs a jar with a heart in it and pulls the lid off, then holds it near Kel’ori. After a moment, the mage turns her head, sniffing eagerly toward the jar.

“There was a scholar that had a theory that the more powerful demons—the ones hard to control—might be cannibals. I’m guessing yours is one of those. Therefore so is the child.” She replaces the lid and exchanges the jar for the book behind it.

Kel’ori frowns. “I haven’t eaten today. It has nothing to do with wanting an elf heart!”

“That was a demon heart.” She sits down and opens her book. “Unfortunately, that’s about as much as I know. There’s a rare book that was in Stormwind, but since then it seems to have gone missing. It’s only one of three copies. I have no idea where the other two are. That would be the book to consult, unless you know someone who knows extensively about demons.” She stares at Grimory again. “I doubt you do.”

Grimory scowls at the priest. “I’m a _demon hunter_. We learned everything we needed about demons during our training. But…th-that?! That’s…” He sneers and turns away again. “There’s no way.”

“Oh, so then you know all about their mating habits and reproduction.” She closes the book and returns it to the shelf.

“So…” Kel’ori hints toward Grimory without looking at him.

“I don’t care what your stupid tome says. It’s not possible.” Grimory’s fists clench against his biceps.

Anarchaia’s fingers tighten around his shoulder. “Grim, just hear her out. Please. It’ll be good for you both.”

Docra stands and collects the tea cups. She takes it to the counter then grabs a brown paper package tied with twine from the shelves. She sets it in Anarchaia’s hand. “Good luck.”

Anarchaia flushes and sends the item away before any questions can be asked.

Kel’ori scoffs. “Gods, you are all brawn and no brains. I’ll just ask my brother. He probably read the book, instead of failing to control something he doesn’t understand.”

Now unrestrained by Anarchaia’s gentle hand, Grimory growls and stands, turning on Kel’ori. “Are you serious?! I apologize, ask what I can do to make it up to you, offer my heart on my _fucking sleeve_ and this is all you can—” He jerks and growls as he’s pulled back by his belt.

“That’s enough. Both of you be civil.”

Docra runs a finger under Ivory’s chin, her nail scratching through the soft fur. “The…_expert_ says it’s impossible.” She turns her back on the others to clean out her tea set.

Kel’ori growls and forces herself to her feet. “See what you did,” she hisses at the demon hunter without looking at him. “I’ll just ask Kalec… I can’t get to the Hall. Great.”

“M-maybe we shouldn’t bring the Archmage into this. Heh.” Anarchaia swallows. _No telling what he’d do to Grim_.

Grimory turns for the door once again. “Fine. I’m done trying to apologize. Trying to be nice. Good luck.”

Kel’ori purses her lips. “You never once tried to be nice about this! You’re just denying all of it. And you’re playing the victim like _you_ were the one who was…who was…”

“Technically he was, but that’s none of my business,” Docra says to the kettle in her hand as she runs clean water through the spout.

“_Excuse me?_”

“Another being forced him into a situation he couldn’t control.” She shrugs.

“That’s not the same, Do!”

“Isn’t it?”

Kel’ori splutters and looks to the other mage for support.

Anarchaia flinches as the door closes behind her. Her lips purse in another apprehensive line. “I…I tried to tell you.”

Kel’ori swallows her sobs. “So…is there a demon…”

“Half,” Docra clarifies.

“What do I do?” she whispers helplessly.

“Do…you want to keep it?” Anarchaia responds, half curious yet half concerned.

The high elf frowns. “Should I? I mean…is it…evil?”

“I wonder if there’s someone we could ask at least that basic question,” Docra says absently.

“You’re supposed to be _my_ friend! Why are you on _his_ side?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t pick sides. I just want you people to stop screaming in my house before they try to take it from me again.”

Anarchaia sighs as well. “What would I have to do to convince you? If you two could get along, he could ask one of his comrades or superiors.” She pauses. “Or I could see what Master knows…”

“I don’t want to have an evil baby,” Kel’ori cries.

Docra blinks at the mages. “Well, someone has to speak to someone. I have a dagger to find.” She shoos them to the door. “Oh, and your new frumpy robes will grow with you. You’re welcome.” She regards Anarchaia. “Your enchanted things are pretty straight forward, but make sure you leave them on under your clothes for twenty-four hours prior and twenty-four hours after.”

Anarchaia nods as the two are pushed toward the exit, then jumps and flushes as she’s spoken to. “O-oh! Heheh will do! Thankssomuchpleasedon’tevermentionitagainbye!” She sighs in relief when the door closes, then straightens at the impatient Illidari waiting on the other side.

“Done?” he scoffs, arms folded.

Kel’ori frowns and turns her head away from Grimory. Her eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, my gods, I know where it is!” She takes off toward the Nightheart tavern.

“It?” Anarchaia questions, but the girl is already gone. She sighs and holds a hand out to Grimory. “I’m sorry. I…saw that going better.”

“Whatever.” He takes her hand and the two reappear back at the tavern, then silently take their respective seats beside their partners.

Alisbeth shoves herself sideways into the demon hunter and grins up at him. “I missed you. Did you have fun?”

Koltira drops his arm behind the mage, silently pulling her—and the chair—closer.

Kel’ori enters a few minutes later, winded. She pounds her hands on the table and lowers her head to catch her breath. Once her composure is regained, she goes to Taveth and starts rummaging through his bag. “Hey, brat, remember that book you used to read to Diori?”

Taveth jumps and fights to get her out of his satchel. “I’ve read her many books many times. What of it?”

“The demon one. Ah-ha!” She pulls out a black and grey dagger with a curved blade.

“Oh. That one. It’s in the Stormwind royal library. Restricted section.”

Kel’ori deflates and turns for the door, making a rude face behind the demon hunter’s back.

“So!” Anarchaia says abruptly with a grin. “What are we talking about? What are we drinking? Heh.”

Ervaen smooths his hair back when a yellow tress falls into his eyes. “Nothing in particular. And nothing in particular.” He gives her a patient smile.

Grimory forces a smile to Alisbeth. “Oh yeah. The most I’ve had in years, actually.”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “Am I not fun enough for you?”

Grimory hugs her shoulder against himself and gives her a little shake. “I’m only joking, yeah?”

Taveth double checks that the other dagger is the only thing missing from his bag. “So, what happened? Where did you guys all go? And…why was Kel wearing…that?”

“Uh. A friend’s house. And you know Kel. She changes outfits often. Heh.” Anarchaia waves a hand and orders a glass of wine to occupy herself with.

Taveth shrugs. “Maybe she just hasn’t looked in the mirror, yet.” He laughs and sets his gaze on his older brother. “Can you even remember the last time she wore something that boring?”

Ervaen gives Taveth a grin and chuckles. “Now, now. I thought it looked rather nice on her.” He sips at his brandy. “Boring. But nice.”

Koltira maintains a casual-looking smile as he leans closer to the mage. <<Are you maintaining the lie for everyone?>> he asks in Gutterspeak. <<Or are you going to let me in on it?>> He eyes Taveth a few feet away, making sure the scholar hasn’t overheard.

Alisbeth grins. “As long as it’s just a joke!” She pokes his nose and holds her whiskey up for him. “Want some?”

Grimory’s smile softens from pained to tired and he takes the glass to have a small sip. “Thanks, darlin’.” He hands it back, but instead of relinquishing the glass, he holds tightly and smirks down at her.

Anarchaia follows his gaze, then leans her face into the crook of his neck to push her lips to Koltira’s ear, hoping to only come off as a simple show of affection. <<Promise not to tell a soul? Living or dead?>>

<<Only because you asked nicely,>> Koltira says through a smile.

Taveth chuckles. “Maybe she’s finally growing up.”

Ervaen lifts his fair eyebrows at his youngest sibling. “I’d sooner turn into a hippogryph at this very moment.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Alisbeth makes a face at him and pulls on the glass.

Grimory tilts his head, grin widening. “It is. What are you gonna do about it, girlie?”

Alisbeth’s face pinches with devious thought. “What am I _not_ gonna do about it?” She pushes her foot against the table, causing her to shove into the demon hunter. The chair tips and they crash to the floor, Alisbeth still clinging to the glass and trying not to let any spill.

Grimory braces himself as the two tumble down. When he opens his eyes, he’s amazed to find the glass still half full and their fingers clamped about it. He narrows his eyes at her. “Nice try but you’ll have to do better than that.”

Anarchaia hesitates, the word jumping to her lips but not waiting to come forth. <<We think she’s…with child. Heh.>>

Koltira’s smile falls and he abandons trying to look casual. <<Kalec’s? That’s…scandalous. I can’t say I’m all that surprised.>>

The younger Nightheart laughs into his own glass. He sobers, his eyebrows coming together in thought. “I wonder why she was asking about _Reece Adlam’s Demon Compendium_.”

“Perhaps she’s decided on the ways of the warlock instead,” Ervaen muses as he swirls the contents of his glass.

Anarchaia immediately flattens her palm over his face to hide his expression from the others. <<Not Kalec’s…or Gil’s.>>

Koltira grits his teeth and sneers. <<If you tell me that that asshole… I’m not sure if I should leave or just kill him.>>

The tips of Taveth’s ears turn pink and he blinks. “I-I don’t think she’d…be very adept at… Do you really think she’d turn to something so…dark?” He frowns at his own phrasing.

Alisbeth sits up and straddles Grimory’s chest, gripping the glass in both hands. “It was mine to begin with, horn-head. Gimme!”

A dagger flies across the tavern and shatters the glass. Whiskey and clear shards rain down on the Illidari’s chest. Alisbeth sits in shock for a minute before leaping toward the figure waving her fingers tauntingly at Grimory, before she vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Grimory flinches as he’s covered in shards of glass and sticky whiskey. He sits up and glares in the woman’s direction, or at least where she had been. “Honestly, fuck that rogue.”

Ervaen gives a thoughtless shrug. “I wouldn’t call it dark. A profession’s a profession I presume. Thought her mage studies were going well, though. Guess not?” He jerks at the noise and scowls, standing. “_You’re paying for that!_”

Alisbeth puts her hands up innocently. “Okay! I’ll pay! I’m so sorry!”

Anarchaia pulls away to stare, concerned, into his eyes from behind her mask. “Don’t start anything.”

Koltira scowls. “Don’t start anything? Really?” He stands and drops gold onto the table. “Leave. That’s the better idea.”

Ervaen looks at Alisbeth, then slowly lowers back into his seat. “Not…you, Ali.”

Grimory stands to wipe himself off as well as help Alisbeth back to her feet. “Welp. This has been a good trip so far.” He blinks as Koltira stands. “Oh. Heading out already?”

Anarchaia quickly grabs Koltira by the crook of his elbow and gives him a pleading look. “U-uh. Yeah. More…renovating. Heh.” She finishes her wine and stands as well.

Alisbeth looks around, confused. “I’ll…pay anyway?”

Taveth eyes Koltira, then leans around to mouth _What did I miss?_ at the mage.

The death knight purses his lips down at Anarchaia. <<I know it wasn’t his fault, but this is…>> He glances at the Illidari. <<I’m sorry, Ana.>> He strides from the tavern, his lips pursed in thought.

“N-nothing! Just. Drama. You know. Heheh…heh. Kolt, wait!” She stands and follows the elf out into the streets. “Please!” she pleads once she catches up. “If you know it’s not his fault, why feel this way toward him?”

Grimory can’t help but pick up on the tension and clenches his fists. “I’m…” He turns toward the exit once the mage and death knight have had time to distance themselves from the tavern. “Shower.”

Ervaen sighs and pushes his cheek into his knuckles. “Exciting friends you have, Tav.”

Taveth sighs out a long breath. “I miss the excitement of the library.”

Alisbeth runs after the demon hunter. “Wait! I’ll join you!” She hooks her elbow in his and grins happily.

Grimory gives her an exhausted smile. “Wouldn’t be a shower if you didn’t.” He leads her up the stairs of the Legerdemain Lounge in search of a vacant washroom.

Koltira stops and stares at the ground as the mage catches up to him. “I’m not mad at _him_. I’m just…angry.” He lets out a long breath. “And wondering if we should take bets on a third unwanted child of his popping up…”

Anarchaia’s lips twitch as she does her best to stave off a scowl. “He wanted Diori. And…if Kel has any sense in her she’ll…g-get rid of it…”

Koltira blinks rapidly down at the mage. “That’s an astonishing option coming from you, of all people. Why…would you say something like that?”

Anarchaia tilts her head away to avoid his gaze. “Docra says it’s…demonic. I’m worried what could happen. She could die at the very worst.” She sighs, then pushes the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Grim…wasn’t receptive to the idea—er—_theory_ either. And imagine Kalec finding out. Or Gil.”

Koltira’s jaw works beneath his skin. “Oh.” After a moment he pulls her to him. “I mean…we could adopt it.” He lowers his brow at himself. “Sorry. That was… So, are we headed back tomorrow? Room at the inn, then?”

She wraps her arms around him. “Well we have hearthstones. We can go ‘home’, now, because I won’t have to teleport us back.” She casts him a soft smile. “That is if you don’t mind _sleeping_ on the hardwood until the bed is re-stuffed.”

He sighs in defeat. “All right, you win. Let’s go.”

Her grin widens and she pulls him toward the center of town. “Always do.”


	32. Chapter 32

Kel’ori drops a tray heaped dangerously high with bacon onto the table. Taveth eyes the pile and his sister from the corner of his eyes.

“Did you take all the bacon they had?” he asks.

“Almost. Some guy took some before I got to it.” She blows on a piece and tries to eat it anyway, holding it in her teeth to shake the heat from her fingers.

“You’re not eating…all of that, are you?”

“Doggy bag. Breakfast lunch and dinner. And snacks.” She grins at him as she chews.

A familiar draenei clad in a worn leather apron finds the two in the dining hall and makes his way over. Her gives Kel’ori an amused, scarred grin. “That must be where all the bacon has gone off to. Quite the appetite for such a small woman.” He chuckles.

Kel’ori pauses, for a moment becoming self-aware of how the scene mush look. “I-it’s for all day,” she says, averting her gaze.

Taveth smiles up at the draenei, a clump of blond hair between his eyes. “It’s nice to see you again. How’ve you been?”

Eophen chuckles again at the elf’s messy hair and uses a thick pinky to flick the tress from Taveth’s face. “Well, thank you. And same! How is your adventure faring? Safely, it would seem.” He sets himself beside the scholar.

Taveth blushes at the familiar way in which the draenei touches him. He sets his sights on his book. “Y-yes. We’re staying safe. Heh. Mostly.”

Kel’ori chews slowly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously on the two.

Eophen nods. “That is good. Would it be rude of me to say I am surprised? Granted, it is surprising whenever _anyone_ comes back from that wasteland unscathed.” He shoots Kel’ori a grin. “But you seem to have a good group. Speaking of the sort, where are the rest? Surely not…?”

“No, no, heh. They’re just still on Azeroth. Taking their time. It’d be nice if they’d hurry up.” He glances at the draenei. “I mean, I don’t mind, heh. U-unless We’re keeping you from something?”

“Oh gods, this is too good,” Kel’ori says. “The bacon,” she blurts when her brother looks her way.

Eophen laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing wrong with the engines as of this moment. I am a free man for the time being.” He blinks his golden eyes. “Unless it is _I_ who am imposing?”

Kel’ori giggles. “Oh, no. Please. Stay. I’m sure my brother _loves _your company.” She gives the blushing high elf an evil grin.

The draenei leans on an elbow to regard both elves more easily. “So, what is on your itinerary for today? The High Exarch has been really impressed with your progress. The Prophet as well.”

Taveth shifts under Kel’ori’s scrutiny. “Heh. Um. W-we delivered parts for a machine of some sort yesterday, so I imagine the repairs have completed. I’m not sure where we’re headed after that.”

Eophen raises his eyebrows. “Oh, the warframe? I have been hearing much talk of it in the lower decks, actually. We are going our best to build more.” He pauses. “Well, not myself personally, as much as I’d love to, but…you understand.”

Taveth smiles. “That’s a shame. I’m sure you’d be an asset to the cause.”

Eophen gives a modest laugh and waves a large, calloused hand. “I would honestly be afraid to work on those. So much responsibility if they malfunction. At least here I can blame my sister if something goes wrong, eh?” He nudges the high elf with an elbow and winks.

Taveth chuckles as he sways under the nudge. His face darkens in embarrassment as he catches Kel’ori’s eye.

~ * ~

Alisbeth stares out at the bustling city street from where she sits on her balcony, her forehead pressed to the ornate bars of the railing.

Grimory awakes with a violent start, sweat glittering on his cheeks and forehead. He runs his hands frantically over his horns and face, then sighs and falls back into the pillows with heavy breaths. “Ali?”

Alisbeth bursts back into the room and launches to the bedside, eyes scanning the room frantically. “What is it? Who hurt you? What am I killing?”

Grimory shakes his head and pulls her to him in a hug, still panting through his nose. “No one. I just…was worried you’d gone, is all. I’m fine.”

The death knight presses her cold forehead to his. “You don’t need to lie about having a nightmare, Grim. I bet if I slept, I’d have them, too. Wanna talk about it?”

Grimory ponders the question for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” He looks out into the lightening sky through the balcony doors and sighs through his nose. “We should go, yeah?”

Alisbeth frowns. “Oh. Okay.” She shoulders her axe and grabs her hearthstone from the top of the dresser. “Ready when you are.”

Grimory rubs at his face with both palms and throws his feet over the edge of the bed. He dresses and pulls his own hearthstone from his bag. “Yeah. Ready to go slaughter more demon filth?” He smiles wearily.

Alisbeth hugs Grimory, then uses her hearthstone.

Both the Illidari and death knight appear on the main deck in swirls of blue light. Soon followed by another swirling light containing Anarchaia. She gives the two a small wave. “We made it at the same time today, heh.”

“We usually do,” Grimory responds pointedly, the events of the previous afternoon still fresh in his mind.

Alisbeth grins at the other two. “Grim is having a rough morning. Probably cause we didn’t bone. He’s always happy about that, but so am I because—”

“Ali, stop,” Koltira says, grimacing and holding up a hand. “None of us want to hear that. Let’s see if the Nighthearts are here.” He takes the mage by the hand and heads downstairs.

Anarchaia flushes beneath her mask but says nothing as she’s pulled along.

Grimory pulls his ears back as the two leave, then scoffs and grabs Alisbeth’s hand as well. “I bet they fuck more than we do,” he grumbles. “Or he’s still jealous.”

Alisbeth makes a face. “Does that mean we need to fuck more? I mean, I’m all for it, you’re just mopey lately. And we’re busy. I don’t think anyone would like it if we just went for it in the mess hall. It’d be fun, though!”

A flush heats Grimory’s face as they near the dining hall. “Yeah. I mean—no. I mean—_ugh_. I’m not being _mopey_.” He scowls at her over his shoulder, then leads her inside to sit at the far end of the long table.

~ * ~

Koltira stops over the table and sighs down at the others. “Oh, good. Everyone’s here.”

Eophen turns at the sound of Koltira’s voice, then gives a small smile accompanied by a wave. “Hello again.”

“Good morning! …I think,” Anarchaia responds brightly and sits beside Kel’ori, then does a double take at the mound of bacon on the table. “Oh, uh…good idea. Heh.”

Kel’ori fidgets nervously and looks away from Anarchaia. She sees Grimory at the other end of the table and casts her gaze to her food.

Koltira nods kindly to the draenei. “Well met. Sorry to interrupt, but we should really be on the move.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at the demon hunter, then glances at the other end of the table. “Want me to steal some of her bacon for you?”

Grimory follows Alisbeth’s gaze and gives her a half smile. “Nah. I’ve got rations left.” He pushes a lock of hair out of her face. “Thanks, though.”

Alisbeth frowns for a split second, then forces a smile. “Okay. If you insist.”

Eophen blinks, then gives a chuckle and claps Taveth on the shoulder. “Do not break all your bones today, little elf.” He stands and gives a nod to Kel’ori, then the rest. “Be well, adventurers.” Tail swaying lazily behind him, he leaves them to their breakfast.

Anarchaia knits her brow. “I just sat down,” she mutters and stands again. “I suppose we need to find Turalyon. …or _him_.”

Taveth stares for a second longer at the golden hair on the back of Eophen’s head, then adds a final sentence to his journal, pointedly avoiding looking at Kel’ori.

His sister grins. “This is so perfect. Oh, gods.” She giggles and shovels her food into an animal hide sack.

Koltira rubs Anarchaia’s back. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be done with this whole planet. Right?”

The undead girl nods unenthusiastically and lifts her hands. A swirling door of light materializes, in its center a picture of Destiny Point. “That’s true.” She offers a small smile.

The Nighthearts enter the portal first as Koltira smiles down at the mage.

Grimory stands and stretches. “My back feels a lot better, yeah? Good thing we went back to Azeroth.” He rubs at his shoulder and gives it a roll. “I…don’t think my body heals all that great here.”

Alisbeth grins at Grimory and hooks her arm through his elbow. “Guess we’ll just have to make sure you don’t get hurt, huh? Or you can noms on those freaky yellow rocks Taveth has.” She giggles and hops through to Destiny Point.

Grimory gives a reserved chuckle as he’s pulled through.

Anarchaia kicks at a stone once safely on the other side and scowls at it as it tumbles down the steep incline. “I hate this place,” she mutters.

“Ah, you’ve returned!” Turalyon, having been conversing with the Prophet, waves the party over. “We’re beyond grateful for your help with repairing the warframes. Now that we have a small fleet at the ready, we’re preparing an attack on a structure we’ve heard tell is housing a particularly powerful demon.” He points up the path, past the lava pools, to a looming structure. “There are many guarding just past the gates, however. But we’ve sent the first wave of warframes to take care of them. All that’s left for you lot is to kill Khazaduum.”

“Easy enough,” Grimory drones from the back of the group.

Turalyon turns a stern gaze on him. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. We’ve lost many to him already.”

Alisbeth grins up at the human. “We’re what you call _experts_.”

Taveth opens his mouth to object but closes it. He shudders slightly at the thought of the powerful demon, remembering his encounter with a mere pit lord.

“We’ll handle it, Turalyon. You have our word,” Koltira says and ushers the party north down the steep sloping path leading into a jagged and dangerous landscape.

Grimory stares at nothing in particular as they trek, hiding the apprehension in his verdant eyes behind a knit brow.

Alisbeth slips her arm behind the demon hunter’s back and lays her head on his shoulder. “Smile! We get to kill a thing! We’ve killed bigger, badder things.

Grimory merely slowly nods, Alisbeth’s voice seeming far away. “Yeah, I know. Just…” He sighs and turns to smile down at her with tired eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

Alisbeth returns the grin. “Only because you asked nicely. After this can we go have some fun? We haven’t had fun in a long time.”

The demon hunter’s face softens some and his smile threatens to widen. “Yeah. We can. What did you have in mind?”

Alisbeth scrunches her face in thought. “Hmm… We could take Diori somewhere fun! Maybe teach her how to fight!” She bounces eagerly.

Grimory gives a small, breathy chuckle and messes her hair. “Yeah. I’d like that. I miss her.” He also thinks for a brief second. “Maybe the faire. Or camping.” He pauses and sobers. “Or to meet her grandparents.”

Alisbeth beams, the snow of her eyes fluttering in excitement. “She has grandparents? Why didn’t you say so sooner? I can’t wait to meet them! Wait, can I meet them? Is that okay? Am I invited?”

An image of how he imagines the encounter playing out runs through his mind and he gives a single laugh through his nose. “Of course you can come.”

Alisbeth laughs and claps. “I can’t wait! What are your parents like? Are they proud of you? I bet they’re proud of you. _I’m_ proud of you.”

A look of sudden sullenness crosses over Grimory’s face and he stares at the path ahead. “I’ve…actually not told them yet. I sent a message telling them I was safe after being released, but…”

Alisbeth frowns. “Oh.” She thinks on it, then hugs him tight. “I bet they’ll still be proud of you. Of what you did.”

Grimory continues to stare ahead, her words prompting scenarios to play in his head. “I…can only hope. Heh.”

Anarchaia silently makes her way to Kel’ori’s shoulder and lifts her mask to show an endearing yet apologetic smile. “Hey, uh…how are you doing today?”

Kel’ori slowly pulls the strip of bacon from her mouth, as though it were the subject of a complaint that wasn’t being made. She clears her throat and sends her gaze to the ground. “I’m, um…fine. How are you?” Her eyes shift to the others and the growing gap as she slows to walk with the other mage.

Anarchaia’s smile wanes. “That’s not important. And I know that’s a lie, because I often tell the same one. Docra is a good friend to you, but if you need someone else to talk to…” She sneers at herself suddenly. “And I’m sorry for bringing him. I…should have known it’d be a disaster. But…he came to my house cr—wanting advice. I told him to make it right with you. And he hasn’t.”

Kel’ori looks away and scowls. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

Anarchaia grits her teeth behind pursed lips, smile now gone. “Kel, please. We’ve been through so much together. Can’t you give it more thought than just _whatever_?”

Kel’ori sighs. “No. It’s just whatever, Ana. He doesn’t want to apologize or try to make it right, then that’s just…whatever.” She shrugs and purses her lips. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I just want to finish this mission and move on with my life.”

Anarchaia sighs and lets the other mage walk ahead of her a few paces before muttering “But he _did_ apologize,” beneath her breath.

Kel’ori stops and spins to purse her lips at Anarchaia. “It. Doesn’t. Matter. Not anymore. Nothing anyone can say will change any of it.” She pouts and catches her breath as tears threaten to fall from her eyes. “His words are meaningless. And now…I just want to move on.” She turns and resumes following the others.

Anarchaia’s eyes flick from the woman’s angry face, down to her growing belly, and back upon hearing the words _move on_. She sobers and deflates as she’s left there to walk in the back of the group alone with her thoughts.

A purple swirl appears beside Kel’ori and Tryxora rushes out and runs into the mage. She _eep!_s and scrambles to Taveth to hug him to her chest. <<Master, you didn’t call me when you got back!>>

“That was intentional,” he gasps as she squeezes him.

<<I would have been back sooner, but I was having naughty thoughts about my _handsome-wandsom Tavie-wavie_ and so Keeshokin was—>>

“_I don’t want to know!_” Taveth pries free and smooths his hair.

Tryxora purses her lips, an evil smile on her face. She leans closer, biting her bottom lip. <<He was spanking me.>>

Taveth sneers. “I said I didn’t want to know.”

Koltira laughs and looks over his shoulder, then stops when he notices how far behind Anarchaia has gotten. He waits for the others to pass, then falls into step beside her. “Hey. Everything okay back here?”

Anarchaia scrunches her face at the sound of the demoness’s voice, then looks up to crinkle her nose further at the scene. Her smile returns, however, when the death knight approaches. “Yeah. Just…thinking. Heh. You know me.” She shrugs and gives a chuckle that trails off into nothingness.

Koltira gives her a look. “I do know you. I know you over-think and get upset. Calm down. Relax. Wait until there’s something to actually worry about.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and gives her a little shake. “You can’t make someone else’s problems your own,” he says quietly, his eyes on the other mage trudging along by herself.

Anarchaia frowns as she’s shaken. “I can’t help it,” she says barely audibly. “I feel like this is all my fault.” The toe of her heeled boot finds a pebble and she watches it roll off with a clatter. She absently lifts a hand to rest over the back of his. “If I’d just stayed. Just listened to Master…”

Koltira shakes his head. “Stop, Ana. If you’re going to go with that argument, it’s my fault, not yours. Stop taking blame. What’s done is done. We can’t change that. And now whatever she does, it’s her problem. Not yours.”

Anarchaia’s brow knits and she grits her teeth behind her lips. “I just can’t stand this discourse. Grim doesn’t deserve the way she’s treating him. He apologized, did I tell you that? And she threw it in his face.” She inhales to say more, then holds the breath instead. It comes out as a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll stop talking about it.”

Koltira purses his lip. “What do you think Kalec would do?”

Anarchaia fidgets more. “I almost think he’d kill me,” she mumbles quietly, frown deepening. “He’s so quiet and stoic but those kinds of people are the scariest when angry. And he’s so powerful…”

Koltira frowns, slowing so they don’t reach the others. “Ana, he wouldn’t kill you. What kind of world do you think we live in? Besides, you really think anyone would get to you between me, Khadgar, or even meathead up there?”

“Archmage Kalec could obliterate Grim with ease. Perhaps not you, though.” Anarchaia sobers. “And with the way he’s been treating me, Master would probably send him a signed form of consent.” She sighs. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t find out.”

Grimory turns to give Taveth a look over his shoulder. “Your new girlfriend might be useful, yeah?”

Taveth glares at Grimory for a moment before Tryxora latches onto him.

<<I would never let anything happen to my master! Of course I’ll help with whatever you’re doing, just so I can keep him safe and happy.>>

The high elf pries her away again. “Don’t encourage her, Grim? Please?”

Grimory grins. “But look how much she loves you. I almost think you should be taking advantage of that, yeah?”

Taveth purses his lips. “If you like her so much, come get her,” he unintentionally orders.

Grimory stops in his tracks until the group catches up. He bends at the waist as the succubus nears and lifts her into his arms with an unamused glare to Taveth. “Right. No fun at your expense, yeah? I’ll remember that.”

Tryxora bites her bottom lip and giggles, then frowns. <<You’re strong and handsome and you have a nice booty, but I’m taken. My sweet little master has this demon’s heart. Unless it’s not my heart you’re after.>> She giggles and taps his nose.

Alisbeth sneers and yanks at the demoness. “Get off him right now or I will tear every part of you off one at a time!”

Taveth shrinks back away from the three. “Put her down! I’m so sorry, Grim. I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, darlin’.” At the sound of the word _down_, Grimory immediately drops the demoness straight into the dirt and, taking Alisbeth’s hand, continues on with a bemused stare on the path ahead.

Taveth steps around the succubus as she reaches her hands up to him.

Tryxora pouts. <<You wouldn’t really leave me here, would you?>>

He shrugs. “Well, you’re supposed to be in the Nether, anyway.”

Kel’ori snickers down at the woman. “Sucks to be the unwanted one, doesn’t it?”

Tryxora stands and dusts herself off. <<At least _I’m_ not wearing a potato sack and calling it a dress.>>

The mage blinks and narrows her eyes. “I caught some of that? I think?”

Koltira grabs Anarchaia by the arms and forces her to look into his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Ana. Stop. You’re the only person even entertaining the idea that it’s somehow your fault.”

Anarchaia keeps her face inclined up at him but cannot help looking away. She clenches her teeth, her composure threatening to break as tears sting her good eye. She forces herself to nod and smile. “Y-yeah. You’re right. Heh. …sssorry…”

Koltira lifts Anarchaia’s mask and sets a kiss on her lips. “I know, you’re worried. To be honest I’m a little worried, too. But what’s done is done. I think now all we can do is just…be her friend, if you can stomach it?” He chuckles and takes her hand to lead her into walking so the others don’t get too far ahead. “I don’t actually think she has anyone else to turn to, does she?”

Anarchaia sobers and nods as they walk, turning to discreetly rub the moisture from her eye. “I…guess you’re right.” She looks up at the sound of gore and dogs, but her attention is only drawn to the back of Kel’ori’s head. “I’ll…try to talk with her…again.”


	33. Chapter 33

Grimory can’t help but snicker at the banter behind him as he leads the group down a slowly winding slope. A felhound snarls as it races up to meet them, leading a small pack of younglings. The demon hunter steps aside as one lunges at him, pulling Alisbeth behind him to shield her. His boot collides with it midair and it yelps as it bounces off.

Alisbeth swings her axe around and buries it in the spine of the hound. It whimpers as she skips away to hook her arm through the demon hunter’s. “We make a great team!”

Grimory gives her an endearing smile. “We do.” One arm still in hers, he swipes at another hound with the other, effectively severing its head. He turns to look at the succubus. “If you really love Taveth so much, you’ll help, yeah?”

Tryxora flaps her wings to lift her from the ground and plops herself on her hooves beside Taveth. She smiles lustfully at him. <<I would do anything for my master.>>

Taveth makes a face. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She shakes her head. <<Hmm-mm.>>

Grimory inwardly chuckles at the exchange behind him as the last hound falls beneath his claws and Alisbeth’s axe.

Koltira smiles at Anarchaia. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” He kisses the knuckles of her hand.

Anarchaia blushes and steps over the mangled remains as they follow. She thinks, hesitating. “Next we stop for a break, I shall. Heh.”

An inquisitor, horns curling toward the dark sky, is alerted to the party and abandons his book to glide toward them, clawed, gnarled hands full of green fire. The figure catches the eye of the Illidari and, instead of running to fight, he cannot help taking a physical step away.

“Incoming,” he mutters, demeanor quickly shifting.

Alisbeth frowns and steps in front of the demon hunter. “He won’t hurt you, Grim. I promise.”

Kel’ori stumbles back and falls to her rear. “Not again,” she whimpers, shoving herself backward with her heels.

Not questioning the woman’s fear, Taveth places himself between Grimory and Kel’ori. “Don’t look in its eye,” he advises. He turns his head over his shoulder to catch Anarchaia’s eye. “Is that what happened last time? Because I read that—”

“I don’t think now is the right time,” Koltira says, unsheathing Byfrost and rushing forward.

“It’s not being harmed I’m worried about,” Grimory responds and, though he wills it, his legs refuse to move. He grits his teeth and instead turns away to continue on up the path.

Anarchaia blinks forward and throws up a protective barrier of ice around Taveth and Kel’ori as the demon opens a portal to usher forth a group of eager imps and scanning eyes. She focuses on the smaller prey, freezing them all to the ground and hailing over them with sharp shards of ice. “Yes, it was,” she says over her shoulder to the scholar.

Koltira rushes into the group. He extends a hand to freeze the mind of the summoner. The portal closes and the death knight leaps at the demon, slashing at the tall, narrow figure.

Alisbeth frowns as Grimory leaves her behind. “I was going to keep you safe,” she squeaks. After a moment, she purses her lips and begins hacking at the collection of little demons and eyes.

Tryxora squeals and flicks her wrist. Her whip snaps through the air and hits an eye. She growls at the imps advancing on the group and sets a hand on her hip. She grins devilishly and swings the whip in a wide arc, knocking the lesser demons away. <<Nobody comes anywhere near my master!>>

Taveth crouches beside Kel’ori, doing his best to comfort her. She remains frozen on the spot.

The inquisitor’s screech of pain pierces the air as violently as the blade pierces his torso. He hisses a word in Eredun and a massive pillar of flame bursts from beneath Koltira’s feet.

Anarchaia steps aside the erratic whip as she assists with the remaining imps and eyes. She turns to see Grimory walking off with slight haste in his steps and furrows her brow upward. “Poor Grim,” she mutters, then flinches at the heat caused by a fel flame attack.

Koltira encases himself in a shield and hops backward. He shoots a stream of sleet at the end of his cloak to douse the small fire clinging to it.

Taveth growls. “Tryx, do your thing to the guy.” He points emphatically at the inquisitor.

<<He’s a demon. I can’t,>> she snaps, as though it should be obvious. She whips the lesser demons back a few feet.

A thump comes from behind the demon and he pauses, then yowls in pain. He spins around, the Maw of the Damned still embedded in his back.

“You’re not hurting my Grim!” Alisbeth screams and launches at the mask hiding the demon’s face.

Anarchaia sighs in relief when she sees Koltira thinking as quickly as he’s known to do. She turns away, back to her work only to catch the sight of a floating demonic eye. She quickly turns away again and blasts blind bolts of fire toward it.

The demon reaches back to pry the axe from his back. He dodges Alisbeth’s charge and, despite the agony, brings the weapon down in an arc toward her.

Not expecting the demon to retrieve the weapon, Alisbeth is knocked down. The metal of her breast plate screams in protest before the spike of the Maw slices into her arm. She screams and falls to the ground.

“Ali!” Taveth screams. “Tryx, help her!”

The demoness folds her arms under her bust and purses her thick lips at him. <<I protect _you_.>>

Koltira pulls the inquisitor back away from the other death knight and dodges as it swings the blade at him. “Ana, some ice would be nice, please.”

“U-uh! Right! Sorry!” The undead girl bounds forward, abandoning her attempts with the eye and aims a shard of ice at the demon. It shatters against his helmet, but the second strikes him in the throat. It melts quickly, leaving spurting blood and water in its wake. The demon seems to tumble backward, clawing at its throat as whatever forces cause him to hover fail; he crashes into the rock and dirt. The Maw clatters across the brimstone.

“Are you all right, Ali?” Anarchaia kneels to help the death knight up.

Alisbeth accepts the help and stoops to pick up her axe with her uninjured arm. She throws a sudden hug around the mage. “Thank you so much. You’re such a good friend.”

Taveth urges Kel’ori out from behind the boulder. “It’s okay. It’s gone.”

Koltira sets his hand on the small of Anarchaia’s back. “You did great.”

“It was nothing. Heh.” Anarchaia returns the hug hesitantly, then smiles up at the second death knight. Suddenly feeling crowded, she ducks from the hug and saunters down the path after Grimory.

The demon hunter, once an adequate distance away, steps off the path to sit beneath an overhang of craggy stone. He sighs and puts his face in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Alisbeth gives Koltira an awkward smile, then frowns as Grimory disappears and the mage follows. She makes her way to her cousins and walks beside them, her brow furrowed in thought.

“You all right?” Taveth asks Kel’ori as he directs a smile to the death knights as they take up spots on either sides of the Nighthearts.

“I just… I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be so useless next time.”

His brow knits. “It’s okay to be afraid of something. No one will hate you for it.”

Grimory starts at the crunching of footsteps. He moves his hands to see Anarchaia’s heeled white boots and sighs, lowering his hands into his lap but not looking up. “I couldn’t…”

“I know. It’s okay.” She holds out a hand but he does not take it.

“No, it’s not.” He rubs at his face with the heels of his palms. “I have literally one purpose, and I can’t even do that.”

She bends and takes his hands anyway, tugging to urge him to his feet. “You don’t only have one purpose. You have many. And you don’t have to rush to recover from what’s happened. We’ll be here for y—”

He pushes past her and back onto the path. “Yeah, I know,” he grumbles, leaving her there beneath the outcrop.

The party reaches the location at what feels like midafternoon. Golden warframes spout holy fire over remaining demons, while others burn the bodies or destroy portals. A warframe stomps up to the group and a draenei smiles down at them.

“High Exarch Turalyon said you were on the way. We’ll clear you a path to the temple.”

“Thank you,” Koltira says, nodding.

Kel’ori swallows and stays put. “I should stay out here.”

The lot watches in awe as a battalion of warframes rush over the grounds like wildfire. A few succumb to the ravages of infernals and skilled doomguards, but otherwise make easy work of the bulk. Nothing but bleeding corpses and fire dot the surrounding area once they’ve finished.

“I…wow,” Anarchaia whispers, blinking. “Draenei engineering is nearly superior to gnomish, I’d dare to say.” She steps forward toward a large, wide set of stairs leading to a narrow hallway, sure to leave her party in her peripherals.

“Don’t let your goblin boyfriend hear you say that,” Grimory grumbles behind her.

Kel’ori blushes at the mention of Gildwynn then pulls free from Taveth’s grip. “I still think I should stay outside. Out of the way. Not pissing anyone off…”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Shut up and get your ass in there.” He gives Anarchaia a look from over the top of the blonde head.

Taveth takes his sister’s hand. “You’re not in the way.”

Alisbeth sighs down at the skull on her axe. She tucks her injured arm to her stomach and stomps past all of them and into the doorway. “Oh,” she says simply as two huge felguards glare at her from either side of the path.

“Stay with us, please, Ali,” Grimory says as he jogs to catch up. He smiles up at the guards and takes a step back—pulling Alisbeth back with him—as one of them swipes its massive blade at them.

Anarchaia turns to Kel’ori and gives a hidden, encouraging smile with a faint hint if irritation. “We could really use your help in there.” She lifts a barrier of ice that another blade crashes and scrapes against. “Remember what Turalyon said about this demon we need to kill?”

Alisbeth frowns at him as she seems to not even notice the fight unfolding around them. “I was going to protect you and you walked away. Why didn’t you let me protect you? Don’t you think I can do it?”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Of course, right now is the perfect time for that conversation. Makes sense.” He brings up Byfrost to stop a weapon, sparks raining down over the green ground. “Not like anything else is happening.”

<<I’ll help!>> Tryxora runs forward and slashes out her whip. It wraps around the leg of a felguard and she pulls it out from under the demon. He crashes to the ground with a grunt and a string of curses.

Kel’ori wrings her hands. “He said they’ve lost _good_ soldiers. I’m not a soldier. I’m not even _good_ anymore! I’m the person you take so that I die and you don’t.”

“Shut up,” Taveth growls. “Seriously that’s all nonsense. Just…shut up.”

Grimory turns to her. He opens his mouth, then grunts as his claw catches a sweeping blade. Blood trickles from his palm but he holds fast. “Ali, it has nothing to do with you,” he says, noting Koltira’s irritation and speaking in a voice low enough for her alone to hear. “I just…” He grunts again as the blade presses into him, pushing him back. “Didn’t…” He growls and hurls the weapon away from himself.

Alisbeth pinches her face in frustration and jerks her uninjured arm up, bringing the Maw up between the felguard’s legs. “I’m talking!” She pulls a stream of blood from him to heal herself as the demon howls in pain and stumbles away. “What, Grim? You what?”

Anarchaia seizes the opportunity to throw a sharp spike of ice into the fallen demon’s face. It pierces the skin of his cheek and he gives a roar of annoyance and pain. “You _are_ a good mage! I’ve seen what you’re capable of!” she calls over her shoulder, stepping away from the flailing blade of the enraged felguard.

Koltira slices at the felguard’s belly; steam rises from the blood and innards.

Kel’ori frowns. “I can’t do anything, and you know it! See?” She aims her palms at the demon on the ground. Little sparks of orange light sputter forth to rain unimpressively down at him.

Anarchaia sighs inwardly and lifts a hand. The demon on the ground—batting away the sparks and scowling as it struggles to kneel—bursts into flames.

As the two felguards fall, bleeding and burning, Grimory clenches his fists and turns to Alisbeth, eyes small pyres of anger. “_Because I didn’t want anything to happen again, all right?_” Without waiting to see how she’ll react, he continues on into the hallway, becoming lost in its shadows.

Alisbeth flinches and rubs her arm. “But I was going to protect you,” she whispers.

Taveth’s brow lowers in annoyance. “Tryx, bring my sister.”

Kel’ori jumps and stops her slow retreat back outside. “Bring? What? N—” Her eyes glow pink and her face adopts a passive, calm expression.

<<Come, darling. Follow me.>> Tryxora walks backward beside Taveth as the party travels deeper into the temple.

Grimory trudges ahead of the party, fists clenched at his sides. Another pair of felguards rushes to meet him at the end of the passage, polearms brandished. With a surge of anger, the Illidari swiftly dodges the first attack and plunges his claws into the demon’s chest. The felguard’s weapon falls to the ground as a hunk of flesh, viscera, and sinew is ripped from within him.

Eyes burning, Grimory jerks his head toward the second, who visibly falters. The hesitation is enough for Anarchaia to catch up and freeze the demon’s feet to the earth.

Koltira brushes past Anarchaia as he goes for the felguard frozen to the ground.

Alisbeth runs in. Instead of going for the battle, she crashes against the demon hunter’s back. “Don’t be upset, Grim. Please don’t hate me. I want to meet your parents and have pancakes and make Diori smile and I don’t want you to hate me.”

Still fuming and on alert, Grimory jerks but immediately relaxes when hearing her voice. His scowl subsides some. “I’m not angry,” he says after collecting himself. “And yeah… You know what? After this fucking mission we’re going to do just that, yeah?” He turns to look at her. “I…should see them. And so should she.”

As though they’re in a less hostile environment, Alisbeth curls her arms around Grimory’s neck. She goes up on her tip toes to set her forehead on his cheek. “Just stop being a grumpy-butt, okay? This place is awful enough.”

Grimory calms further, not turning to see the battle behind him. He sighs just as the second demon crumples to the soot-stained soil. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” He reaches up to place a bloody hand on her cheek but does not smile.

Anarchaia assists her partner with attacking the demon, showering it with a blizzard of ice as well as hurling fireballs. Through the blinding light of one of her fire spells, the demon’s polearm slices through the air and bites into her cheek. She gasps in pain and surprise and stumbles back, a hand over the wound.

Koltira’s eyes go wide. He steps in front of the mage and swings Byfrost in a wide arc to slice open the demon’s belly. He parries the polearm swing and shoves the wide head of his sword into the gash he’d created. He pushes harder when he feels the resistance of the demon’s spine. With one final shove, he severs the spine and the demon crumples to the floor, growling and swinging weakly at them.

The death knight ignores the felguard and turns to the mage. “Are you okay?” He takes her chin to turn her head and moves her hand away from her cheek. Green necrotic slime oozes down her periwinkle skin. He purses his lips, his eyes instinctively shifting to cast a worried gaze on Alisbeth.

Anarchaia hisses at the pain of his touch, then looks down at her hand. She gives a quick nod and looks over to Alisbeth as well. Seeing her occupied, she quickly pulls the liquid from her clothing and disposes of it, then runs a finger along the torn fabric of her mail to seal the slice. “Good as new. Heh. Are you okay?” She winces when her crooked grin causes the incision to bleed more and she quietly curses, turning away. “I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

Koltira shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”

Taveth passes the two and purses his lips, knowing he can help, but that Anarchaia won’t accept it. “We’re almost there,” he says instead, gesturing through a doorway.

Alisbeth takes Grimory’s clean hand and pulls him to where Taveth gestured. She stops to wave a hand in front of Kel’ori’s glowing pink eyes, then pokes her nose. She giggles when the high elf doesn’t even flinch.

“More fodder for the fel,” Khazaduum laughs from his platform before a bubbling pool of green lava. “You off-world worms are tenacious, I’ll give you that. But so were the rest.”

Grimory sneers at the demon’s arrogance. “I think we’ll prove to be a bit more of a challenge for you, demon filth.”

Anarchaia follows behind until they catch up with the rest, a hand in Koltira’s and the other obsessively pulling ichor from her mask until the oozing stops. She pauses at the size of the monster standing at the end of the walkway. “He’s huge.”

Koltira shrugs. “We’ve killed bigger.”

Alisbeth unsheathes her axe and sneers. “You’re the only fodder here, ugly.”

Taveth reaches into his bag and grabs the spine dagger. The fractured skull surrounded in orange flames pops up over Tryxora’s shoulder.

<<Oh, there you are, you winged harlot.>>

She jumps and gives a nervous smile. <<Surprise!>>

<<I’m more surprised this bumbling fool summoned you.>>

Taveth’s brow lowers in annoyance. “Trust me, I didn’t. Can we focus?”

The skull spins around and pauses. <<Oh. I see. Well, it wasn’t nice knowing all of you. Don’t come to me in the afterlife. Please leave my spine in the path of a being _actually _worthy of my power, yes?>>

Grimory steps forward as the demon does, hulking claws at the ready. “Less talk,” he grumbles and rushes forward. Khazaduum lifts a massive claw of his own to shield himself and chuckles.

Anarchaia shudders and steps past the rest to follow Grimory. “I know, but…I have a bad feeling.” She scowls at the skull as she passes. “Keep Kel’ori safe,” she hisses to the succubus in turn, then aims a blast of fire at the demon. The attack, however, seems to be absorbed in his thick, armor-like skin.

“Pathetic,” spits Khazaduum and swipes at Grimory, only narrowly missing. “This will be quick.”

<<Don’t order me around, stinky,>> Tryxora growls.

Anarchaia throws an annoyed look over her shoulder at the now familiar word, then curses herself for becoming distracted. She throws massive shards of ice that merely shatter against the large spikes jutting from the demon’s back. “Useless,” she groans, but continues regardless.

Alisbeth runs to the towering demon and swings her axe wide. She slices into Khazaduum’s thigh, but the demon doesn’t seem to notice.

Koltira places himself on the other side, the death knights working together to hopefully cripple him.

Khazaduum gives a seemingly amused chuckle at the efforts used to harm him. He lifts an injured leg, trickling blood, and throws his clawed foot into Alisbeth.

Grimory gives a distressed noise and slashes again but is blocked. He strains against the weight of the large clawed hand, then is eventually overcome and thrown back. He rolls to dodge a slash, then leaps back to his feet only to dodge another.

Alisbeth flies backward and smacks against a tall green pillar. She screams as the bone in her right arm snaps on a spike, then falls to the ground, her vision blurred and her body shaking.

Taveth growls and calls forth felhunters and imps, then tries to get Keeshokin.

<<Sorry, master, only one of us is allowed out at a time,>> Tryxora says, slowly urging Kel’ori to move to the right. <<I can get him if—>>

“Keep my sister there. We’ll be fine without him,” Taveth says.

<<Ballsy,>> Thal’kiel mutters from a save corner of the room.

Koltira aims his slices at Kazaduum’s ankles, hoping to sever the tendons. The demon hicks his own legs out from under him, then stomps back to the demon hunter.

Anarchaia glances between the two death knights with alarm. She bites her lip, the helplessness of the situation beginning to sink in. Before Khazaduum can bring an arm up to ready an attack on Grimory, she summons a fiery whip that lashes around the demon’s wrist.

Khazaduum stops, not because he’s hindered but rather because he’s intrigued. He smirks and swings his hulking arm in an arc, throwing the mage through the bulk of summoned demons and to the opposite end of the platform—she grunts in pain but manages to shakily lift herself to a knee.

The demon again turns to Grimory, eyes glinting with triumph. <<Are the lot of you even trying?>> He brings a sweeping claw down onto the Illidari’s shoulder, but only cuts shallow as the elf moves away.

Grimory breathes fire over his attacker, but the flames merely lick Khazaduum’s armored claws and forearms as he shields himself. “Shit,” he spits, growing anxious.

Alisbeth struggles to stand. She sends out a tendril of red, draining life from the demon to heal her arm. She gets to her feet, but skids and falls back down as her vision is still doubled.

Koltira pushes back to his feet and runs at Khazaduum, swinging Byfrost down and slicing a deep gash from the demons hip to nearly his knee.

The demon cries out in surprise and pain for the first time. He cringes as his life forces are drained, then turns on Koltira. <<Impudent elves!>> he roars, grabbing Koltira by his long tresses before he can get away. He hisses as another whip bites at his wrist and drops the death knight back to his feet. He turns on the succubus, the humor in his eyes replaced with irritation. <<Traitorous whore.>> He easily shrugs off the blasts of green and orange fire to his back as he brings a razor-sharp claw down on the demoness.

Tryxora yipes in alarm and her form swirls into fel green and purple smoke before he can do her any damage.

Khazaduum gives a quiet chuckle at her cowardice. With her form gone from before him, his glowing eyes focus on another figure hiding in the shadows. He grins and stomps toward the blonde elf near the walkway, still ignoring the attacks to his armored back.

Kel’ori blinks as the pink charm fades from her eyes. She looks around, then squeaks in shock as the huge demon thunders her way. She backs away but stops as her foot slides down when she reaches the end of the platform.

“Kel!” Taveth shouts, then feverishly begins the incantation to summon an infernal.

Alisbeth gets to her feet on the other side of the room, her vision finally cleared. “Get away from my bitchy cousin!” She charges forward.

Khazaduum gives another, more bloodthirsty chuckle. He swings back a clawed hand to ready a strike. Pounding footsteps rush forward as his nails rake around, leaving steaks of green in their wake. The demon grunts and his enthusiasm fades when, instead of slicing into the delicate flesh of the mage before him, his claws dig into the hard muscle of a different body.

Blood sputters from Grimory’s mouth as he coughs; it runs down his lips and stains the patch of blond on his chin. With wings wrapped around the Nightheart girl in a protective stance, he grimaces and avoids looking down at himself, though eventually cannot resist. Coming up and at an angle, the demon’s claws tore through the side of his torso, just below his outstretched arms, until they’d met with enough resistance at his core.

He clenches his eyes shut and forces his mouth closed, but more coughing erupts fun his throat, causing more blood to spray into the woman beneath him. “Run,” he chokes, visibly straining to stay upright.

Alisbeth stops in her tracks and stares in shock at the demon hunter’s mangled torso. She drops the Maw to the ground. Her hands shaking as tears immediately roll from her eyes. “Not again,” she whispers.

Koltira falters, then runs at the demon. “Grim?” he shouts.

Taveth’s incantation comes to a halt. “N-no…”

Thal’kiel hovers over the elf’s shoulder. <<I told you. Run, before you share his fate.>>

Kel’ori gasps in shock, her hands scrabbling at the blood coated skin of Grimory, trying to keep him from falling at her knees. “You saved me,” she whimpers. “You saved me.” His weight becomes too much and she can’t hold him up any longer. Instead of running, the mage builds a massive arcane orb between her palms as Khazaduum readies another swing. She sends the red-colored orb into the leering face of the demon. He screams out as the orb sears his eyes from the socks, then goes quiet when it explodes, slamming him with a fatal concussive blast. She stands in dumb shock for a moment as Khazaduum crashes to the ground.


	34. Chapter 34

Anarchaia’s eyes widen and she ungracefully scrambles to her feet. Salty tears already staining her mask and aggravating the wound on her cheek, she runs across the platform, around the massive corpse of the demon, and slows to a stop at the sight of his body. For a long moment nothing enters her mind but the scene before her, then memories flood her thoughts. She slowly goes to Grimory’s side and sinks to her knees.

“Grim…?” she whispers, her voice carrying little strength. She reaches out to push his hair back, then immediately retracts her hands to cover her face at the sight of his blank, lifeless stare. She hiccups, holding back a screaming sob.

Taveth frowns and shoves the dagger into his bag before Thal’kiel can say anymore cruel words. Koltira sets a silent hand on Anarchaia’s shoulder.

Kel’ori breaks into sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m so sorry.”

Koltira clears his throat. “You didn’t do anything. We… We should get going.” He stoops and wraps his arms beneath the demon hunter’s. “Can someone get his legs? Ali?” He looks back to see her still standing in the middle of the room, as though frozen in time.

“I-I can…” Anarchaia hiccups. She lifts a shaking hand, then gives a pained sob at the sound of the demon hunter’s torn organs falling through the open flesh as his body lifts from the ground. She covers her eyes with an arm and a portal back to the Vindicaar opens behind her.

Taveth rushes over and takes Koltira’s cloak from his shoulders. “Just going to borrow…” He cringes and wraps the article around Grimory’s gaping torso.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” Kel’ori keeps saying, unable to tear her gaze from the demon hunter. “I d-didn’t…”

“Ali, let’s go,” Koltira growls.

“He saved me…” Kel’ori whispers. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Anarchaia says quietly through her reserved weeping. “It’s nobody’s fault.” She turns to make her way to the portal. “Besides,” she continues with a forced smile, “he might b-be back…heh.” She rubs at her nose with a sleeve, tears pooling at the hem of her mask. “Maybe.”

“But I didn’t mean to,” Kel’ori says on a small sob.

Taveth sets his sister’s hand on Koltira’s shoulder. “Go with them.” He walks to Alisbeth as the others go through the portal. “Ali, come on.” He pulls on her hand, but she doesn’t move or respond. He grabs her axe by the handle, but cannot lift the head easily, and so leaves the head on the ground. He takes his cousin by the hand and pulls; her feet take tentative steps only to keep her from falling over as he pulls. He manages to get her through the portal behind the others before it closes.

The world seems to whirl around Anarchaia as she brings Grimory’s limp corpse back into the lower levels, Koltira’s gore-soaked cloak leaving a trail of red behind her. Infirmary workers surround her when she nears, relieving her off the body and bringing it to a secluded corner of the station. They set to work sealing the open wounds and tattered organs, but the looks on each Draenei’s face leaves the room feeling bleak and cold.

The undead girl wraps her arms around herself, silently watching them work a short distance away. Koltira sets a tentative hand on Anarchaia’s shoulder as Kel’ori still grips his and cries out her apologies. Anarchaia reflexively sets her hand upon his in return, shoulders still jerking with held back sobs.

Taveth grunts and holds out the Maw’s handle for the death knight to take. He wraps his newly free hand around Alisbeth’s and pulls, but she won’t budge, her eyes locked on the Illidari’s corpse.

A draenei paladin, features somber, strides over to them. She sighs down at the women. “There’s…not much we can do save for making him…presentable.”

Anarchaia nods absently, eyes also still unable to tear away from the man who had once been her friend and lover. She forces herself to blink. “I-… C-Can we leave him here for a few days? Just to…to see?”

The paladin shifts uncomfortably but nods all the same. “I’m afraid the Illidari we see pass through our hands—”

“I know,” Anarchaia nearly snaps, her thin veneer of calm breaking ever so slightly. “…thank you.”

The woman gives the group one last nod and passes the party to make for the door.

Koltira sighs. “Ana, do you really just want to…leave him here?”

Taveth gives up pulling on Alisbeth and takes Kel’ori by the hand. “Let’s clean you up, okay?” He turns away from the others and quickly wipes away a tear that broke free, knowing it’s the first of many.

Anarchaia remains quiet for a moment before slowly shaking her head. She scratches at her throat where tears have dried, but her fingers do nothing to help the itching. “Maybe…Illidan can help,” she mutters, voice trailing off.

Koltira lets out a long breath and steers the mage to a cot. He waves down a healer. “She’s injured,” he says, lifting her mask just high enough to show the wound.

“Oh,” the draenei hums. Without asking, she yanks the mage’s mask off to get a better view of the injury.

A few seconds pass before the mage can fully process what’s just happened. Her eyes go wide and the red pupils within them immediately lock into Alisbeth’s immobile figure near Grimory’s cot. Her arm instinctively reaches for the mask though her eyes remain trained on the death knight across from her.

Koltira angles himself to block the view of either woman to the other. He gives a weak smile to Anarchaia.

The lightforged woman purses her lips. “Now, you just hold still, all right?” She sets her palm over the cut and golden light shines out from between her fingers.

As though not having expected it despite having been warned, Anarchaia cries out and jerks away, covering the spot on her face that’s now only half healed. She covers her mouth and looks up between the two in front of her. “Sorry,” she mumbles into her palm, her hair a mess and sticking to her face in places.

The draenei smiles nervously and takes Anarchaia’s chin when Koltira nods for her to finish. “Just one second more, okay? Then you’re free to go.”

Across the room, one of the staff lifts a sheet and covers the demon hunter from head to toe. As though a switch is flipped, Alisbeth screams and launches herself at the draenei, pounding her fists against him as her voice shrieks from the walls. Koltira runs over and pulls her back, but she fights against him, screaming and flailing as though her life is in peril.

Anarchaia clenches her eyes closed as the wound is completely sealed, then jumps at the shrieking. She wrenches her mask back into her possession and gives a sad smile to the nurse. “Thanks. Heh.” She throws the item over her head and rushes over to the death knights. She grabs onto Alisbeth’s opposite arm and pulls as best she can. “Ali! Ali it’s okay! I’m not going to let them take him! _Please calm down!_”

Instead of calming, the death knight turns on the two, kicking and hitting at them.

“Ali, he’s still there! _Stop hitting me!_” Koltira grunts, trying to reign in her arms.

Anarchaia grunts and stumbles back some as she’s kicked hard in the core. She squares her shoulders and lifts her hand. In a puff of swirling smoke, Alisbeth is transformed into a small, black cat. The mage sighs. “I’m sorry, Ali, but it’s for your own good.” She glances over at the sheet and tears sting her eye again. “Maybe we should just…bring him back.”

Koltira furrows his brow and stares down at the little cat rubbing on his ankles. “To…Azeroth?”

The mage nods. “He…wouldn’t heal until he went back. M-maybe…he…” Tears again sting at her sinuses and she inhales sharply to stave them off. She composes herself. “I-it’s worth a try.”

Not long after the door to the inn room is closed, the black cat in Koltira’s arms poofs back into Alisbeth. She returns to screaming for a second, then goes deathly quiet once she sees the demon hunter lying on the bed. She returns to her previous statuesque state.

Koltira straightens. “Apparently it was that easy?” He goes to the mage and wraps his arms around her from behind. “Ana, I’m so sorry. What… What can I do?”

Anarchaia’s shoulders go rigid at the question. Her fists clench as she struggles. She shakes her head and brings a stiff hand up to rest on his arm. “I just want him to come back,” she says in a quiet squeak, then covers her mouth when a sob pushes up into her throat. “I can’t keep looking at him, but I don’t want to leave him…”

Koltira blinks and releases her. He moves around the other death knight and retrieves a chair. “I don’t think he’d appreciate that kind of help from me.” He sets it beside the bed but faces it away. “Besides, I’m not even sure it’d be possible.” He pushes her into the chair and gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Why don’t you and Ali keep each other company?”

Anarchaia falls into the chair and blinks. As though shaken from a stupor, she looks between the two death knights. “W-what about you?” she blurts. “I don’t want to leave you alone, either…” Her eyes again slide to Alisbeth. “And honestly I’m afraid of what will happen when she…_comes to_.”

Koltira sighs, an apologetic expression on his face. “He was our friend. You’d think it wouldn’t bother me, but I can’t stand here and stare at a corpse all night. Not _him_.” Before the mage can respond, he leaves the room and heads for the Nightheart tavern.

Anarchaia gives him a fleeting glance as he goes, then sighs.

Several minutes pass in silence, then Alisbeth’s head very slowly tilts to one side. Just as slowly, a wide Cheshire grin parts her lips and her eyes go wide. She stares at the mage that way for a moment, then begins to softly hum the tune of a children’s nursery rhyme. “I know a secret,” she sings, “how long, can I keep it?”

The mage goes rigid at the humming, suddenly filled with an unexplainable dread. She turns to look at Alisbeth. She swallows. “A-Ali…?”

The death knight twitches, her hands raising to bust-height and her fingers twitching as though plucking little strings. “Ali’s gone away, ask another day. The men are gone, we’re all alone, so tell me will you stay?” By the end of her little tune her head has slowly tilted to the other side. Her smile remains wide and her snow-flurry eyes remain trained on the mage.

Anarchaia hesitates. “I-I’ll stay as long as he—_you_ need me to.” She lifts a shaky hand. “M-…maybe come sit? With me? …heh.”

Alisbeth stares for a longer than should be comfortable for the mage, then jerkily looks around the immediate area. Not seeing another chair, she leaps straight up and lands on the dresser in one bound. She crouches low, her knees nearly to her head. After another minute, she turns to look at the mage, her head tilting so far sideways it might threaten to turn completely upside-down if it were able. “A question we are pressed to ask, why does it wear a mask?”

Anarchaia hides a small gasp of fear ushered forth by the death knight’s sporadic behavior. She slowly rises to her feet. “I-I was in an accident. You know that. Heh.” She again holds up her hands. “Let’s just…sit. Okay? Sit and…” She swallows, unsure of what word to use. “Calm down.”

Alisbeth undresses as the mage speaks, dropping her plate gear to the floor in a pile. She blinks rapidly, her vision strobing behind her flitting lids. Her smile still does not waver. “It asks us nicely to calm down, and yet the creature wears a frown? Quiet, listen, just you wait. Shh,” she sets a finger to her lips and holds a pauldron over the pile of armor, “we drop the plate.” She opens her fingers and the metal piece crashes against the others.

At the loud crash, Anarchaia gets to her feet, her chair screeching across the floor. “Ali, you’re scaring me. Let’s just calm down, yes? T-talk… It’ll make you feel better. O-okay?” She takes a step backward.

She leaps from the dresser and stops so close the mage can feel the cold from Alisbeth’s chest against her sternum. The death knight sniffs from Anarchaia’s collar, up the side of her head, across her forehead, and stops at her nose. “Calm it says, calm it wants. Quiet, so we hear the haunts,” she sings on a chilling whisper. She wraps a gentle palm over the mage’s neck and urges her back until she falls into the seat again. “Don’t you fret, and don’t you fear, it is safe when we are near.” She straddles the girl’s lap and wraps her up in a protective embrace. “It’s raining, it’s hailing, the heroes are failing.” She grips her fingers around Anarchaia’s jaw to look where her eyes might be. “She went downstairs and she was theirs and she was dead in the morning.” She breathes in a long groan as she arcs backward, then backflips off the chair to kick off her boots and strip her lower half of armor.

Anarchaia gives a weak whimper at the closeness, doing as she’s bade to do. She cries out when the death knight suddenly jumps away, covering her head with her arms. She presses into the back of the chair and slowly lowers them. “I…I think I should go. I…can trust you to watch him, no? Heh.”

With one leg still clad in armor, Alisbeth launches at the door. She crashes against it and turns her manic grin on the shorter girl. “The winter wind is blowing. It says it must be going. Ashes, ashes, you’ll all burn down.”

Anarchaia stiffens and her hands glow a faint purple. “Don’t make me polymorph you again,” she whispers, visibly shaken. _This is the last thing I need right now. Keep it together…_

After a moment, the death knight’s head twitches sideways as she stares at the mage. “Does it want to play a game?” She picks up the mage by the waist and spins her around. “Little thing…” She presses Anarchaia’s back to the door and grins at her. “Give us a name?” She licks the tip of the mage’s nose, then bounds across the room and leaps up to grab the pole across the top of the empty canopy. In one movement she wraps her legs over it and falls back to hang upside-down, staring at the girl at the door.

Anarchaia inhales, for a moment actually considering doing as she’s told. Then, in the next moment, she turns and slams the door behind her, breathing heavily in the hallway. She cringes. _I don’t know if I can leave her alone with Grim. What if she does something? But if I don’t, she’ll most certainly do something to me…_ She slides down the door, face in her hands. “This is the worst.”

~ * ~

Kel’ori drops the blood-soaked dress to the tiled floor and frowns at herself in the mirror. She takes a deep breath and, for the first time since Spinewing, looks down at her body. For a long moment she feels a sense of depersonalization. There is no way she’s looking at herself. When she reaches the bump of her belly, tears force themselves from her eyes.

“Your bra is getting too tight,” Docra says, pushing the door open. “Did you want to make the clothes this time?” She takes the mage by the elbow and urges her to the bubble bath waiting in the tub.

“I can’t,” Kel’ori says. “My magic is too unpredictable.”

Docra nods. “Your dress is in my sink, soaking. I know you wouldn’t appreciate the beauty of the red water swirling around…”

“Am I an idiot if I keep it?” she whispers.

The priestess blinks. “No. You’re brave. And I don’t think a half elf half whatever that demon is has actually ever come into existence—or been conceived. It’ll be quite the scholarly adventure. Taveth will be thrilled.” As she says this, she uses a rag to clean the blood from the high elf’s face.

After a while of the mage slapping at the woman’s hands, Docra leaves the bathroom and stops to stare at the powder pink dress making itself in the middle of her living room, next to it a matching set of underwear and a bra. She peeks back at the sullen mage half-heartedly scrubbing the blood from her face, then at the clothes with an odd teal magical aura. Rather than saying something, she goes to make a fresh pot of tea.


	35. Chapter 35

Koltira stares into his whiskey glass, the empty bottle beside him. He downs the liquid and hails Ervaen for another bottle. As when he’d first walked in, he avoids making eye contact in the hopes of avoiding answering questions about their travels and especially about the man’s siblings.

Ervaen sets the bottle before the death knight and takes up the glass he’d been polishing. He watches the man make efforts to avoid his own stoic gaze while mindlessly running the cloth over the cup. “Is everything all right?” he finally says as though he’s said it a thousand times before to a thousand different people.

Koltira says nothing for a long while. As he starts in on his third glass of drink, he lets out a long breath. “I liked him. Even after everything that happened… And the fucked up part is I can’t tell him. And even more fucked up is that…even if I _could _bring him back, I don’t think I actually would.” He gives a sardonic chuckle. “Pretty sure that makes me a special kind of piece of shit.”

Ervaen furrows his brow in the faintest of ways, his polishing slowing. “You lose a friend of yours?” he asks cautiously, studying the man’s pale, sullen face.

Koltira chews on his lower lip. “On Argus. Yeah.” He shakes his head and downs another tall glass of drink. “And your sister… I could hit that woman, but I won’t. Probably still hates him, even though it wasn’t his fault. Ana’s right about her.” He swirls the amber liquid at the bottom of his glass. “Sorry. Shouldn’t talk about your family like that.”

Ervaen knits his brow further. “I understand how Kel can be. I’ve been her brother for a few centuries.” He sets the glass upside down alongside the others, then inhales slowly as though thinking. “Someone I know?”

Koltira purses his lips for a long time, then closes his eyes. “A little. Grimory, the demon hunter we were traveling with.”

Ervaen pauses. “Diori’s father?”

Koltira puts his head in his hands. “Yes.” He thinks about the little girl’s sweet face; about how jealous he was that she was not his. The death knight growls and chugs straight from the bottle.

Ervaen furrows his brow upward in a rare show of empathy. He leans across the bar and eases the elf’s arm down along with the bottle. “It’s on me, okay? But don’t go downing it all like it’s water.” He sighs. “Perhaps it’s a good thing they did not know one another long.”

Koltira sighs. “You really think she won’t be just as devastated? She loves—…loved him.”

“I think she loved him as much as she would a distant relative,” Ervaen responds, resting his elbow on the bar. He sighs and runs his hand over his hair. “A shame. He seemed like a good guy.”

Koltira shrugs. “That’s all right, I suppose. Maybe she won’t even care. It’s only been a few months. Tav really liked him…a lot, actually.”

The high elf nods. “He did. Talked about him a lot after that excursion to Silvermoon.” He sighs as well. “I can only imagine how Alisbeth is faring.”

“Oh, yes, Alisbeth.” He gives a humorless laugh. “She hasn’t moved or shown any signs of life, except when someone put a sheet over him.”

Ervaen brings his lips in briefly to wet them with the tip of his tongue. He picks at a worn spot on the wooden bar top. “I’m sorry for your guys’ loss,” he says carefully. “But, if I’d be so bold, perhaps you all should be together right now. Instead of…” He motions to the bottle.

Koltira stares at the bottle as though it had just appeared. “Ana wanted to stay with him, but I just couldn’t. Taveth took Kel…who knows where. I think right here is where I want to be.” He swigs from the bottle to emphasize his point.

~ * ~

Taveth stares at the door of his family home for a long time, trying to build the courage to go inside. He sets his hand on the knob and quietly enters, his eyes immediately finding his bedroom across the living room, before scanning to make sure the coast is clear. He closes the front door as silently as possible, then makes a swift move to reach his room. Once inside, he presses his forehead to the wood and allows his tears to roll silently from his eyes.

A knock sounds on Taveth’s door after a few moments. “Tav…? Are you back?” Diori calls quietly from the other side.

He frowns and wipes his face. “Y-yeah. I’m…” _She needs to know. _He opens his door just enough for the small elf to fit. “Come in…”

Dori’s inquisitive gaze turns to one of concern upon seeing her cousin’s flushed, blotchy face and glistening eyes. “Are…you okay?”

Taveth stares at the girl and only sees her father. His face pinches as he finally loses himself to the sobs. He sinks to the floor and pulls her to him, hugging her tight as though she, too, might be lost.

Diori blinks, then slowly brings her arms up to return the embrace. The intensity of his sorrow brings frightened tears to her eyes. “T-Taveth…what’s wrong? What happened?” she says with a sniffle, gripping his shirt.

Taveth forces himself to calm down but doesn’t look at her. “I have…very bad news and…I don’t know if I should tell you just yet or…”

Diori swallows and loosens her grip. “What happened? Where’s Kel?” She wipes her cheek on his collar.

“She’s with a friend. I, um… I have some bad news about G-Grim.” He clears his throat.

Diori goes silent for a long moment. “What happened to Father?” she whispers, pulling away to look at him with a wet, sticky face.

Taveth licks his lips and takes a breath. He looks Diori in the eyes, trying hard not to break down again. “We were fighting a rather dangerous demon and it went after Kel. She had nowhere to go. Before any of us could do anything, Grim got between her and the demon.” He swallows and purses his lips. “H-he saved Kel’ori’s life, but…”

Diori’s eyes widen again and fresh tears slowly well within them. “Grim-…Grim’s…?” Her lips purse and quiver as though if she were to utter the word she’d share the same fate. She throws her hands over her face and gives a loud sob. “He can’t be!” she cries, launching herself at Taveth to bury her face in his chest.

Taveth squeezes the girl tight. “I’m so sorry. Would you…like to see him?” _I hope they cleaned him up._

Diori shakes with silent sobs, then nods into his chest. “Yeah…please,” she hiccups.

“We’ll, um, have to find out where he is right now. I’m not sure if he’s still on Argus or…” He wipes his eyes and lifts her into his arms, grunting at her weight. “Would you like to wait with Ervaen while I find out? He’s in Dalaran, now.”

Diori sniffles more and nods, hugging his neck tighter. “Won’t he be mad?” she says, voice raspy and dry. She hiccups a few more times. “No kids in the tavern…”

—

Anarchaia steps into the quiet tavern and silently takes up a seat beside Koltira.

Ervaen lifts his eyebrows at the hunched over figure. “I heard. Can I get you anything? On the house.”

The mage silently shakes her head.

Koltira wraps an arm around Anarchaia and pulls her closer. “How’s Ali?”

Anarchaia slowly inhales through her nose. “N-…Not good. She’s completely lost it. I was scared so I left.” She puts her face in her hands, elbows on the bar. “I think I can trust her with him.”

Taveth carries Diori as far as he can, then has her walk beside him, holding hands, until they reach the mage quarter. In Dalaran he takes her into the tavern, quickly spotting his older brother talking to the death knight and the mage.

Koltira shakes his head. “Lost it, how?”

Anarchaia swallows. “Sh-she—”

Taveth approaches cautiously, then clears his throat. “I suppose this is one less stop I have to make. Diori wanted to see Grimory, if that’s…possible?” He looks first to Koltira, then to Anarchaia for an answer.

She turns at the sound of Taveth’s voice, then brings a hand to her mouth at the sight of the distraught Diori. “Oh. Sweetie. Uhm…” She looks at Koltira then back to the small elf. “Yes. But we should be there…I think.” _For your safety._

Taveth nods. “Of course. Do you want me to go with you?” he asks Diori.

Diori immediately nods with little thought. “Yeah…”

Koltira takes Anarchaia’s hand and leads the way. “Ana, what sort of Ali should we be expecting?” he hisses low enough for only the two to hear.

She fidgets, her shoulders slumping as though uncomfortable. “She was…singing. Bouncing around the room. Climbing things. Climbing _me_.” She takes in a shaky breath, calming herself. “Now I’m worried about having left him with her.”

Diori rubs her nose with her wrist and follows, tears still welling in her eyes. “He said he’s died before. He’ll be back again, right?”

Taveth shakes his head. “I really don’t know.”

Koltira holds his breath at the door. “Only one way to find out.”

He opens the door to find Alisbeth in her underwear, a dagger in one fist as she stands almost crouched in front of the bed. Her head tilts sideways and up to look at him.

“_Trespassers!_ What business have you? I will not stand for the cruel things you’ll do.” She holds the dagger at the ready, though her manic smile never wavers.

Diori pushes herself tightly to Taveth’s side. “A-Ali…?”

Anarchaia holds up her hands at the sight of the dagger. “Where did you get that? Ali, give it to me… Please.” She extends shaky fingers. “Diori wants to see Grim.”

Alisbeth’s eyes train on the mage. “Knock, knock. Come right in. Now the fun can begin. Ali’s gone, I told it so.” She leaps to her dresser again and crouches, her head sideways and angled down at Diori. “These are creatures we don’t know.”

Taveth grips the girl tighter as Koltira slides between Alisbeth and the others.

“Give me the knife,” he demands.

She sneers at him. “Look at you, big and strong. All you ever do is wrong.”

He blinks, set off kilter by her words.

Diori gives the faintest of whimpers. “Make her stop,” she pleads to her cousin.

Anarchaia, swallowing her fear, scoffs and steps forward again, hands glowing a smoky violet. “Ali. Hand over your weapon.” A swirl of rage rises in her chest and she clenches her fists. “I’m in no mood for games.”

Alisbeth grabs Anarchaia by the front of her robes. “I told it there’s no Ali here. Tell the others. Stop their fear.” She shoves the blade of the dagger into the wall, then leaps across the distance to grab the poles running along the top of the bed, where the canopy should be. She hooks a knee over the wood, then falls back to dangle from it. She stares at them as she reaches down to take Grimory’s now-cold hand. “All the love has gone away. You traitors _leave_,” she swings her free arm wide to motion at them, then points at Diori. “The girl can stay.”

Taveth clenches his jaw. “I’m not leaving her alone with _you_.”

Alisbeth snarls at him, but otherwise doesn’t move.

Diori buries her wet, frightened face into Taveth’s vest.

Anarchaia huffs and lifts a hand. Purple energies lift and pull at Alisbeth’s feet, attempting to pry her from the bed post. “If you’ll just comply, I won’t have to polymorph you!” she hisses. “Or call _Meryl_.”

Alisbeth claws at the bed post and wraps herself tighter around it. “What’s a Meryl? Why so mad? Can’t you see the girl is sad?”

A purple swirl appears in the middle of the room and Tryxora dashes through, her whip raised and ready to strike. “Master? Are you okay?”

He breathes an odd sigh. “Tryx, charm Alisbeth, please. Get her to come out into the hall.”

“Anything for you, Tavy-wavy.” She shoves Anarchaia aside and looks into Alisbeth’s eyes. After a moment she furrows her brow and leans closer as though trying harder.Diori looks up at the sound of the otherworldly voice. Her brow furrows at the sight. “W-what is that?” she squeaks, tightening her hold.

Taveth kneels. “Don’t worry, that’s Tryxora. She’s going to charm Ali to get her to calm down.”

<<No, I’m not.>> She goes to the high elves, directing a small grin down at Diori.

“You’re not?”

“Why?” Koltira demands, already tired of the nonsense.

Tryxora giggles. <<I can’t charm things that don’t have eyes, silly. Didn’t anyone ever tell you, the eyes are the windows to the soul?>>

Taveth sneers. “She says Ali doesn’t have…eyes…”

Alisbeth’s wide eyes jump from person to person, before settling on Diori. She grins and lowers from the bed as the others speak. She reaches into the drawers of the dresser until she finds the one she’s looking for. Slowly, she stretches a candy cane out to the high elf. “We found a cane—a little treat. Something nice for something sweet?”

Diori shrinks away from the demon, then again from the death knight. She sobs and releases Taveth to flee the room, hands over her eyes.For the first time, the wide grin on Alisbeth’s face wavers. She holds the candy up for Taveth, but he turns away and runs after Diori; Tryxora follows.

Koltira purses his lips. “Happy now?” he scoffs down at the death knight gently humming by the dresser as she cradles the candy cane.

The mage sighs heavily, face in a hand. “M-maybe we ought to…restrain her. Put her somewhere she won’t hurt anyone.” She swallows. “Or herself.”

Koltira shakes his head. “I just want some normalcy. But I guess that’s too much to ask for.” He quickly grabs Alisbeth by the arm when she tries to leave the room. “Let’s figure out where to put her? I mean…how badly could she hurt a corpse?”

The cords in Anarchaia’s neck tighten at the word _corpse_. “I…don’t know. And that’s what scares me.” She fidgets. “We can lock her in a separate room? Heh.”

The death knight shrugs and grunts as the blood elf pulls against his grip. “We could try, yeah. Maybe at least to get Diori back in here.”

Anarchaia nods and lifts a gesturing hand. In a swirl of violet smoke, Alisbeth is transformed into a sauntering tortoise. She kneels to pick it up, avoiding the flailing claws. Tiredly she leaves, sets the tortoise in the neighboring room and places a hand on the door when she closes it. With a few quiet words, the wood shines fuchsia then fades back to its lifeless brown. She stands for a moment, head low and fingers still against the door.

Koltira purses his lips behind her. “I’ll go find the other two.” He walks away before she can say anything, his head low as helplessness weighs on him. For a moment he contemplates just returning to getting drunk. Instead, he heads out into the streets to find the high elves.

Diori weeps quietly against Taveth. She’d run as far as the outskirts of town, ran until the edge stopped her. She’d collapsed and remained there until her cousin, drawn by her cries, discovered her. She hiccups multiple times to try and calm herself. “It’s—not—fair…” she sobs.

Taveth’s heart clenches in his chest as he stares out at the nightborne city below. “Any part in particular or just…all of it?”

Diori shakes her head. “All of it,” she hisses after a moment. “It’s not fair to Ali. Or Grim. Or us.” She sniffles and rubs her nose against her upper arm.

He frowns and strokes her hair. “I don’t think she meant to scare you. I…don’t even know if she knows what she’s doing.”

“Neither do I,” Koltira says behind them. “We locked Ali in another room, if you still want to see Grim.”

Diori starts at the sound of another voice and looks up to see Koltira. She sniffles and nods, tugging on Taveth’s sleeve. “Only if Taveth comes.”

The high elf smiles. “Anything for my favorite sister.” He hugs her tight and stands to follow the death knight back to the inn.

Once there, Koltira stops. “I’m gonna…go back to the tavern. Good luck.” He fixes his gaze on the little girl. “And I’m sorry.”

Diori swallows hard at the death knight’s apology, then forces a teary smile. “Thank you.” Still holding Taveth’s hand tightly, she pushes through the door to find it now quiet save for the quiet sniffles of the mage bent over the edge of the bed.

Anarchaia jerks up at the sound of the two and quickly stands. She smooths out her robes and rubs at her cheeks over her mask. “O-oh! Heh. You’re back.” She swallows and fiddles with her fingers. “I-I put Ali in the next room…”

Diori makes her way to the side of the bed as well. She tentatively reaches for the demon hunter’s now cold fingers. “Will she be okay?” she asks quietly.

The undead woman sighs and rubs at her nose with a sleeve. “I think so. She’s just…very upset.”

Taveth leans back against the door and folds his arms. He purses his lips and turns his head away after a long look at the demon hunter. “I think we all are.”

Anarchaia makes her way to Taveth’s side. “What about you? Are you okay?” She sets a hand on his shoulder.

Diori bends over the bed to rest her head on Grimory’s chest. Her face contorts and she sobs when she hears nothing, feels nothing. Her shoulders tremble and her fists clench. “It’s not fair.”

Taveth frowns. “I’m…” He pushes away from the wall to set a palm to Diori’s back. “I know. I’m so sorry.” He looks to the mage, unsure what could be done or said.

Diori hiccups. “I find out who my real father is and he dies. I find out who my real mother is and she’s crazy.” She sobs harder, then sits up and scowls down at the corpse before her. “You better come back,” she squeaks, then pushes away and angrily, somberly leaves the room.

Anarchaia watches her go, lips slightly parted in surprise and confusion. She blinks. “Tav. Can’t…_you_ bring him back?”

The cords in Taveth’s neck tighten as he purses his lips at the mage. “What you’re suggesting I do is _necromancy._ I…I can’t. Not even for…” He sighs in resignation. “I’m not skilled enough to cast the spell. I would for him, though.”

Anarchaia shakes her head and takes a cautious step toward him. “Nono. Just…_call_ to him. Through the nether. That’s how warlocks resurrect their fallen minions, yes?” A desperate smile pulls at her lips.

His brow furrows. “I…suppose I can send Thal’kiel to see if he can find him?”

She clasps her hands before herself and nods. “Could you? Please?”

He sighs and reaches into his satchel.

The skull shimmers into fiery existence and does a quick spin to orient himself. <<Oh, you survived. Color me impressed.>>

“Not right now. I’d like you—”

<<Not in the mood.>>

Taveth glares at the skull. “I _order_ you to go into the Nether and…find Grimory.”

Thal’kiel growls. <<This is the stupidest, most pointless—>>

“Go, now! Before I never bring you out again.”

<<_Fiiine._>> Thal’kiel shimmers out of existence before Taveth has time to put away the dagger.

The elf frowns. “I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Hope runs through the mage like a wave, then dissipates at the elf’s words. Sudden doubt fills her and she visibly sags. “I…d-don’t know. Maybe we can communicate? Or…or…” A sob bursts from her chest and she covers her face with both hands. “Or _something_, damnit!”

With little else he can do to help, Taveth pulls the mage into a hug, realizing after the fact that maybe he needed it just as much as she.

Anarchaia pauses, suddenly caught in a dilemma of remaining collected or letting go. Unable to resist any longer, she clings tightly to the elf and, shoulders shaking, weeps loudly into his shoulder. After several minutes she suddenly jerks away and straightens, rubbing at her cheeks with shaky fingertips and adjusting her robes.

“I-I’m sorry, Tav. I just…” She sniffles and sighs. “Gotta be strong, right? That’s what…he’d say.” Her eyes fall over the demon hunter and a chuckle weakly falls from her lips.

Taveth frowns and shakes his head. “I think he’d be okay with you being upset. You think Ali’s okay?”

Anarchaia hesitates. “She’s…been quiet. Heh.” She pauses as if to emphasize the silence coming from the next room. “Though there may be a silencing charm on one or both of the rooms.”

Taveth frowns. “Diori’s right, this isn’t fair. And Ali…it’s like she just couldn’t handle it and…left.”

Anarchaia nods. “I think I’m more afraid of her now than when—…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with her, though. Do I just keep her here until she of sound mind, er _sounder_ mind? Do I let her climb the walls in here and possibly do something to him?” She gestures to the body.

Taveth shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m as lost as you.” He finds another chair and sets it beside the first, then urges Anarchaia into the one closest to the bed, taking a place on the other. “But I’ll stay here with you. Until dinner, of course.” He frowns. “Unless you think I should go find Diori? Again…”

Anarchaia toys with the hem of her sleeve in an attempt to occupy herself. “I…” She looks up at him and swallows. Her gaze wanders toward the bed but she can’t bring herself to look again. “I’d rather not be alone, actually.”

Taveth nods and takes a breath to speak, then stops. He does so again, then stops. Instead of saying anything, he just nods.

~ * ~

Thal’kiel floats at a leisurely pace through the Nether, toward where Taveth’s minions tend to be. He spots Tryxora holding out a spiked paddle encouragingly to Spinewing. He sighs and floats over. “Could you, for once, stop that nonsense?”

Tryxora giggles. “I could but I like it.” She forces the paddle close to the other demon’s face.

Thal’kiel grumbles and turns to Spinewing, choosing to ignore the succubus. “The mortals wanted me to find your fleshy prison. I don’t want to spend a year searching the _entire_ Nether, so… Where is he?”

Spinewing takes the paddle and easily snaps it in twain with one clenched, clawed fist. He snorts at the floating skull, his lips pulling against his overlying fangs as he smirks. “How the fuck should I know?” he laughs, tossing the pieces at the succubus. “Though, I still exist. So…perhaps as does he.”

Thal’kiel groans. “Useless, all of you!” He shakes side to side, then floats away.

“Good luck,” the doomlord drones as Thal’kiel zips away.


	36. Chapter 36

Koltira stomps from the tavern, adjusting his cuirass indignantly. He stops himself at the entrance to the Legerdemain Lounge and lets out a breath. After a thought he turns and instead heads to the shooting range, since even now, nothing ever soothes his mind like the loosing of arrows into a target. He pays for a bow and quiver of arrows, nocks one, and lets it fly. The corner of his lips twitches up just slightly at the sound of the arrow screaming through the air, then finding the target with a _thunk._

Diori jumps at the dull sound of an arrow finding its mark. She sniffles and leans around the tree she’d tucked herself away beneath, face red and wet. Noticing the familiar elf, she quickly ducks back and pulls her knees to her chest, embarrassed. _I hope I wasn’t too loud_. She rubs her raw nose against a knee and pushes her hair from her face.

Koltira’s brow lowers and, against better judgement, looses an arrow at the tree. It _thunks_ into the trunk, shattering the bark. “Hiding behind a tree at a shooting range is a good way to get shot in the ass.” He looses another arrow at the target’s shield, hitting directly in the middle and causing the arms to spin rapidly around the body.

Diori flinches at the feeling of the arrow biting into the tree, vibrating against her back. She sits for a moment, then wipes her cheeks on her knees again and stands. “You’re really good,” she says meekly as she steps out. “Better than them…”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow and lifts his head from the nock. “So, you’re the one hiding back there.” He looses the arrow without looking and it lands in the white ring around the outside of the target. He makes a face at the arrow as though the bad shot was its fault. “I thought you were with Taveth.”

Diori shakes her head and looks over at the target. She wipes at a warm cheek. “No…I just…” she frowns and deflates, “wanted to hide and cry.” Tears sting her eyes again and she blinks them back.

Koltira frowns. “When you get to be my age, and go through as much shit, hiding and crying becomes sulking and drinking.” He loses another arrow, which lands two rings from the center. He stops to scrutinize the girl. “Get a bow.” He flips a gold coin toward her.

Diori realizes only seconds too late what he’d tossed to her and scrambles with the coin to catch it. She takes another second to think it over, then nods and retrieves a children’s bow and arrows from the stand near the range entrance. When she returns, she stands hesitantly behind the elf and watches. “You think I’m going to start sulking and drinking?” she asks as though it isn’t too bad an idea.

“No,” he lets an arrow fly, “I think you’re going to shoot this target until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” He pauses and looks down at her. “And please don’t drink. Taveth may be mild mannered, but I think he’d kill me.”

“Until it doesn’t hurt?” Diori furrows her brow upward and looks down at the bow in her hands. “We could be here forever.”

“Don’t I know it,” Koltira mumbles. He slings the bow over one shoulder and folds his arms. “Show me what you can do.”

She sullenly steps toward the target. Memories of her previous visit to the range fill her head and the image of the target blurs with tears. She sniffles and draws the arrow back to her ear, then looses. It embeds itself in the farthest side of the target and she lowers her arms to sigh quietly. “I guess it kind of helps…”

He purses his lips in thought, his eyes still on the arrow. “Your form is almost correct.” He kneels to adjust her and help her draw the bow. “Breathe in, aim, and release on the exhale.” He angles her aim to guarantee a bullseye, save any errors on her own part.

The smaller elf nods and does as she’s instructed. The arrow hits its mark with deceptive ease. She smiles and looks up at the man beside her, delight peeking through the sadness in her cerulean eyes. “You’re good at this. What did you do with your bow? The one Ali returned to you?”

Koltira frowns. “It’s…in a trunk in Acherus. It’s damaged beyond repair, now.” He stands and nocks another arrow.

“Couldn’t mask lady fix it for you? I saw her put a whole vase back together.” She does the same, but still only catches the outside of the target without his guidance. She nocks another. “Ali said you worked really hard on it. You should finish it.” She pauses and her aim falters. “Not just let it rot…” The arrow sails over the edge of the island.

Koltira sighs softly. “Maybe she could. But maybe she just shouldn’t.” His eyes remain on the spot where the arrow disappeared. “Sometimes you just have to accept when something is broken or gone.” He stares down at the girl, his lips pursed as though he, too, is swallowing a harsh reality. “We may not like it. But sometimes we just have to accept it.”

Diori frowns and remains quiet for a long time. She turns and looses another arrow. It sticks near the bullseye and she lowers her bow again, then slowly sinks to sit in the grass. “Maybe you should, though. Maybe sometimes if we don’t just accept it, it won’t stay that way.”

The death knight thinks on her words. He knocks an arrow and lets it fly into the bullseye. “You really think stubbornness will make things go the way you want? It takes action. We have to do things to get what we want.” He sends another arrow at the target. “Sometimes there is no action to take.” He rapidly fires several at the target, then turns to stare at her again. “Any thoughts?”

The young girl watches each arrow land neatly in it around the bullseye. She brings in her lower lip to chew on it, then sighs. “No…” she finally mumbles, defeated. She rips a handful of grass from the earth and lets the blades flutter off in the breeze. “Maybe the prophet can help. I bet he’s resurrected people before.” She blinks, then looks up at the pale man above her. “Or he could be one of you.”

Koltira makes a face. “I…don’t think it would work that way. I don’t know how demon hunters work.” He thinks on it, his fingers pulling along the feathers of an arrow. “It’d be something…new, that’s for sure… He’d hate me. More.”

The little elf’s brow knits upward. “He hated you? What for? And why would he hate you more for bringing him back? Don’t people _want_ to live?” She digs a pebble from the tangled grass and tosses it as far as she can.

“Wanting to live and living as a death knight are two different things, girlie.” He thinks on the matter. “Fuck it. Wanna try?”

Diori’s eyes widen and she stares up at him for a long second. “…really?” she finally says, a smile playing at her lips.

The death knight gives a careless shrug. “If we fail, nothing changes. If we succeed, I get punched in the face. Why not?” He launches the last of his arrows. “How good are you at distracting someone?”

Diori gets to her feet, not bothering with the remainder of her arrows. She quickly returns the equipment and rushes back. “Depends on who. I’m _really_ good at distracting Kel. And Yathen.” She makes a face. “Taveth always seems to catch me, though.”

The death knight returns the bow and quiver. “Let’s see how good you are against Ana.” He leads the girl back to the inn and knocks gently on the door.

“Mask lady,” she says as though the woman is a new adversary she’s just become aware of. She squares her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

The door opens and Anarchaia blinks at the two. “Ready?”

Diori falters. “R-ready to…see him. Again.” She lowers her head. “I’m sorry I ran off.”

The mage’s face softens and she looks between the two. “Of course.” She steps aside and smiles. “No need to be sorry, hon.” She turns her smile to Koltira. “Thanks.”

Koltira scowls around the room, then pauses and stares at the mage as though she’d only just appeared. “I found her behind a tree. Nearly shot her.” He sighs. “Why don’t you guys take her to get something to eat? I can…keep watch here.”

The undead woman blinks again, then looks at the other two hesitantly. “I…suppose.” She bends at the waist to regard Diori with a hidden smile. “Want some of those apples you like so much? The café on the west side is open until ten.”

The small elf looks up at Koltira as though asking for confirmation, then turns back and nods. “Yeah,” she says somberly. “On second thought that sounds a lot better…”

Anarchaia’s smile grows sympathetic and she takes the girl’s hand. “Coming, Taveth?”

Taveth shakes his head. “No, I—”

“Starving yourself won’t change anything,” Koltira says. “Go. Have a meal with your sister. I’ve got this handled.” He drops into the vacant seat and crosses an ankle on the other knee. “Too drunk to really do anything else, anyway.”

Taveth purses his lips at Diori, then at Koltira. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you.” He stands and reaches for the girl’s hand.

Diori gives Taveth a forcibly sad smile and takes his hand with her free one, then pulls the two from the room.

Anarchaia gives the death knight a fleeting wave before being dragged down the staircase. She chuckles tiredly. “Slow down, heh.”

“I’m hungry,” the girl responds curtly. “Crying makes me tired and hungry.”

The mage furrows her brow. “I suppose it would. Emotional stress can be just as tiresome as physical stress.”

Taveth nods. “Now that you mention it, I’m getting hungrier.”

Koltira waits a reasonable amount of time, then stands and locks the door. He places one of the chairs under the knob, as though that might stop someone from entering. “All right, buddy. Let’s get started… Don’t punch me.”

~ * ~

Diori follows the two to the café nestled near the Greymane Enclave, across from the monumental fountain. She sets herself with the two at an outside table in the humid summer air and runs her palms along the smooth glass of the tabletop.

“Is Ali gonna be okay?” she asks absently after their simple orders are taken. “She seemed…not good.”

Anarchaia glances at Taveth across the table from her and clears her throat. “I’m…certain she’ll be fine. She’s come through in worse.”

Taveth purses his lips. “I hope so. I already miss her.” He clears his throat. “So, how long do you wish to remain in Dalaran?”

Diori sighs while her food is placed before her. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I kinda miss my room.” She takes a bite, then whines and covers her mouth as it burns her tongue. “But I like it here,” she manages to choke.

Taveth nods absently, but says nothing as he pokes at his meal.

“Oh, hey guys.” Kel’ori stands over them, a nervous smile on her lips. “Mind if we join you?” She motions at Docra beside her.

Black hair twisted elegantly behind her ear, black robes fluttering in the gentle breeze, and a black parasol in her pale hand, the priest looks down at Diori. She says nothing, her purple-painted lips in their usual bland line.

Anarchaia blinks then smiles and makes room for the two. “Oh absolutely. The more the merrier. Heh…” She lifts her mask to sip at her tea to occupy her mouth.

Diori tilts her head up at the strange elf. “Who are you?” she asks outright, licking cinnamon from the corner of her lips.

The priestess blinks and takes a seat away from the girl. “Docra.”

Kel’ori giggles and sits beside Diori. She gives her a quick hug, disregarding any mess that may be on the girl’s face. “I’ve missed you so much! This is my friend Docra. She’s a _shadow priest_. She has a cool dagger and everything!”

Taveth blinks. “Wait… Was that…her dagger?”

“The one I got instead of my hairbrush? Yep. That’d be it.”

The priestess ignores the chatter and quietly orders for both women when the waiter comes by.

Diori looks at the priestess as Kel’ori explains, nodding. She then looks down and gasps. “Krori, what happened to you?” She lowers her voice and narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Anarchaia nearly chokes on her tea, then recovers with a hand over her lips. “U-uhm, this weather sure was been…temperate. Heh. I thought it rained a lot on islands?” She wrings her hands anxiously beneath the table.

Kel’ori forces a grin. “I…don’t. Why do you ask?— _Weather!_ Yes, it has been nice. Very nice. I rather like it. How are you faring under so much clothing?”

Taveth, unable to see past the tabletop, merely blinks quizzically at the others.

Docra rolls her eyes. “You merely postpone the inevitable, Kel’ori.”

Anarchaia gives a small titter. “Oh, I’m fine. Heh. Very accustomed to the elements at this point,” she says over the priest. “What about you?”

Diori purses her lips and lowers her eyelids, used to such behavior in the past. “It rained two days ago,” she drones.

Kel’ori’s smile slowly fades, though she clings to it, still. “Did it rain? I’ve been so preoccupied.”

Diori nods. “A lot. The plant outside our door in the enclave nearly drowned.”

Docra sighs into her tea. “So Taveth, it’s been a while. You look…awful.”

“Thanks,” he says with tight lips.

“You’re welcome. Ana, you look…blue.”

Anarchaia gives an equally tight-lipped “Thanks,” then clears her throat. “Always am. Heh. You look…” She pauses to think. “Bored.”

Docra sips her tea. “I don’t get out much. This is actually…thrilling might be the word, I suppose.” She eyes Kel’ori across from her. “So, Taveth, how do you feel about your sister’s big news?”

Anarchaia straightens in her seat and flicks wide eyes at Taveth. “U-uhmmm…”

Taveth’s brow furrows. “Big news?”

Kel’ori hisses at the priestess, who merely takes another sip of tea. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all. I’ll tell you later.”

Diori looks up at Kel’ori and smiles. “You _do_ have a boyfriend!” She giggles. “Who is he? What’s his name? Is he handsome?”

Kel’ori cringes and waves her hands at the girl. “I don’t have a boyfriend! Why would you even think that?”

Diori blinks as though the answer is obvious. “Because of that.” She points at the woman’s growing belly.

Anarchaia scrambles for words, a multitude of noises erupting from her throat before finding one. “Taveth! Would you like to compare notes sometime? I’m sure you have some I…don’t…” Her voice trails off as she notes a few guards running toward the north side of the city.

Kel’ori’s smile becomes more strained. “That’s nothing! Don’t worry about it.”

“Kel,” Taveth says slowly, “is it really nothing?”

“I have to go. Sorry. No time for lunch.” The elf mage stands abruptly.

“_Kel!_” Taveth stands and grabs her elbow, yanking her closer to speak quietly. “Please tell me that’s Kalec’s?”

“He’s my master,” she hisses.

“And?”

She purses her lips, then snaps her head to look up the street as civilians come running, screaming around the corner.

Docra sips her tea and nods absently. “I am glad you made me come out today. Very eventful.” Her expression, however, doesn’t change.

Anarchaia stands as well. “I-I’m going to go help with… Whatever’s going on on the other side of town. Heh.” She throws a couple gold on the glass tabletop then ties up her robes at the hip to sprint off.

Diori blinks at the commotion. “Who’s Kalec?”

Kel’ori makes a face at her brother and sister, then shakes free. “I’ll help!” she shouts and rushes after Anarchaia.

Taveth narrows his eyes after the women. “Hmm. Diori, let’s get you somewhere safe.” He takes her hand to urge her to Greymane’s Enclave.

Diori reaches longingly for her unfinished plate of apples as she’s dragged off. “Bye, pretty priest lady!”

Docra wiggles her fingers as a sort of lazy wave, but otherwise doesn’t look back at the girl. She turns in her seat to watch for anything that comes around the corner, her tea saucer in one hand. After a minute she stands, takes her parasol, and saunters down the street toward the commotion.


	37. Chapter 37

Koltira purses his lips down at the lifeless figure on the bed. Byfrost’s green glow settles and he sheaths it on his back. With a heavy sigh, he sits on the other side of the bed, elbows on his knees and fists clenched together as he looks out the windows of the balcony doors. _I hope Diori didn’t actually think I could do this._

Suddenly, a large, clawed fist curls around the bulk of Koltira’s tresses. The once lifeless figure beneath the sheets swells as it mutates, spikes bursting from the skin and horns curling outward. Frosty breath billows from lips twisted in a smirk. <<Oh, this is nice,>> Spinewing chuckles as he stands, lifting Koltira and turning the elf to face him, icy blue eyes meeting the other’s. “Nice and quiet without that pathetic worm,” he laughs in Thalassian.

“Sonofabitch.” The death knight mumbles. He grabs the sword on his back and swings it wide to try hitting the demon, while simultaneously kicking at him. “I didn’t want _you!_”

Spinewing chuckles darkly again as the blade bites into his open palm. He wrenches the sword away while taking the blows with ease. Dropping the blade, he pulls the elf back, then hurls him, armor and all, through the closed balcony doors. He steps out onto the splinter-littered platform and stretches his skeletal wings before leaping down to meet the Dalaran guards—their weapons readied and waiting.

Koltira grunts as he hits the ground and rolls across the street, Byfrost skittering away and out of sight. He shoves to his feet and growls up at Spinewing. “I’m warning you! Where’s Grimory?” He steps in among the guards.

“Dead. Are you stupid? You were there.” The demon kicks a guard into the far building. He turns and blows bright cyan fire over the remaining two, then lifts an arm to shield himself from Koltira’s attack. “How’s the girl?” he snarls with a smirk.

Koltira sneers. Rather than answer, he growls and takes an axe from a deathguard. He swings it around at the hulking demon’s torso. “You can’t exist if he’s truly dead, can you? You’re bound to his soul! Now release him!”

Spinewing grunts as the blade cuts into him, but does not falter. “Well he’s not here.” He kicks Koltira away to dislodge the axe in his side. “So maybe his weak little soul couldn’t find its way back. Wouldn’t be surprising.” He grabs a Deathguard by the head and swings him around to knock over multiple mages. “But thanks to your calling, I was able to find this body again.” He swipes massive, frost-ridden claws at the death knight.

The death knight rolls away and grabs up the axe again. “Then I guess I don’t have to feel bad when I kill you.” He leaps up, aiming higher, toward the demon’s neck.

Spinewing leans away from the swing and it merely grazes his hardened skin. When Koltira falls across him, he grabs the elf by his long hair again and lifts him off his feet. “That makes two of us.” He swings him around and into the cobblestone, then grunts when a blast of fire crashes against his back. He turns to make easy work of the mage guard responsible.

Anarchaia’s boots skid to a halt as she rounds the corner. Her eyes grow wide beneath her mask. “Wh-…what?”

Kel’ori rounds the corner and stops just behind the other mage. She immediately freezes in place, lips parted for a scream but unable to conjure the sound in her petrified state.

Koltira screams out and pulls himself free of the tight grip—a clump of his hair tears out at the temple, some flesh with it. He rolls away and finds the axe, then circles behind the demon, hoping to gain some ground that way.

Anarchaia’s mind scrambles for reason at the sight of the demon’s smoking blue eyes. She blinks at the sound of Koltira’s cry, then gives a quiet noise of anguish before bounding forward.

Spinewing growls as a large hunk off ice crashes against the back of his head. He turns with fury in his features, then, looking past Anarchaia, smirks at the sight of Kel’ori. He opens his mouth to speak but becomes acquainted with another bolt of ice that sends him reeling.

Docra rounds the corner and folds one arm over her abdomen to hold the bicep of the one holding the umbrella. She rests on one hip to observe. “Oh, another of those infiltrators.”

Kel’ori lets out a small squeak, but otherwise doesn’t move. Koltira takes the distraction of Spinewing to run up a slender lamp post and spin, angling to land on the demon’s back. Spinewing growls in growing irritation and reaches back to again throw the death knight off him. He sidesteps a fireball hurtling toward him, then starts on a trek down the street toward Kel’ori. He kicks Anarchaia into a nearby mail outlet as she nears to stop him. Koltira gets back to his feet and runs to the mage, pulling her by the hand to go after the demon.

<<Well well,>> he growls in Eredun, frosty breath pouring from his lips. <<Fancy meeting you again.>> He pauses when he gets near her, nostrils flaring. After a moment of sniffing, a wide, fang-twisted smile crosses his face. “How fascinating,” he laughs, bending to stare into her face. “Be sure to name it after me.”

Tears stream down Kel’ori’s face and finally she is able to scream. She raises her shaking hands and a fell green orb forms between her palms, then shatters like glass and falls to the ground as a bunch of sparks.

Docra silently and smoothly slips in front of the mage to look into Spinewing’s eyes. A scream sounds in her mind and spreads out in an invisible wave that washes over the demon. The priestess turns and takes Kel’ori by the hand, seeming to float ahead of her as she leads her back to the little hut in the alley.

Spinewing claws at his head, the screams lingering long after the two women have fled. He looks up and blinks for only a second to rid himself of the ringing, but is met with both the other mage and death knight before he can fully recover. He growls and sidesteps a swipe from the axe, then stumbles as his feet are frozen to the stone below.

“Don’t mangle him!” Anarchaia calls to Koltira, doing her best to keep the massive demon in place.

Koltira growls. “I’m not trying to mangle him! He just keeps _moving!_” With Spinewing unable to move, Koltira leaps at him, the blade of his axe aimed at the pulsing vein in the demon’s neck.

Glass shatters overhead and rains down on the gathering. A shrieking, bluish figure lands on Koltira and pins him to the ground. Crying out in anger, Alisbeth screams over and over, pounding the sides of her fists against the death knight as a gorilla might.

“Ali, get the hell off me!” Koltira shields his face with his arms.

Spinewing gives a dark chuckle at the scuffle. His grin widens when Anarchaia abandons him to force a rush of magic in Alisbeth’s direction to knock her off Koltira. He turns away and makes off toward Greymane Enclave, frost puffing from his nostrils as a wall of guards rushes to meet him. With a single swipe, he knocks them from his path while shielding himself from their magic with his great wings.

Alisbeth rolls and comes back up in a crouch, using the position to immediately leap back at Koltira, pinning his chest to the street as she stands on his back and pounds against the back of his head. Blood spurts from his nose and his lip immediately splits open against the stones.

Patience gone, Anarchaia blasts Alisbeth with a large bolt of fire and runs forward to stand between the two when she stumbles back. Fists clenched and shoulders rigid, she scowls and breathes heavily through her nose. “That’s enough!” she screams, anger seething in her voice. “Stop or I’ll be forced to restrain you!”

Alisbeth gets right in Anarchaia’s face. “It fights the body, hurts the Grim. We’ll kill it if you kill him!”

Koltira spits and wipes the blood from his face. “Ana, keep her here.”

Anarchaia turns slightly but finds she can’t look Koltira in the eye. She nods and turns back to Alisbeth. “It’s not Grim,” she warns in a calm, stern tone. “And I won’t let you hurt Kolt. You’ll have to get through me, first.”

Alisbeth’s grin widens. “It misunderstands what we tried to say.” She wraps her hands around the mage’s throat. “If you take his body, it’s _you_ we will slay.” She squeezes tighter and tighter, laughing.

Anarchaia’s scowl deepens. The tightness blocks the flow of ichor to her brain and she grits her teeth when her eyes throb. _I don’t want to hurt her_. Sparkles invade her vision. She gives a raspy cry before pushing the death knight away with a surge of arcane energy. “Get ahold of yourself!”

Alisbeth leaps back quickly to grip her fingers around the top of the mage’s mask, her other hand going back for her throat. She forces Anarchaia to walk backward, the direction Spinewing had gone.

The mage stiffens under her grasp. She swallows against the hand around her throat and complies, fear quickly overwhelming her rage. “We’re not going to hurt him,” she says quietly, moving her feet as slowly as possible.

~ * ~

Kel’ori pulls away from Docra suddenly and purses her lips. “I can stop him.”

“Then go.” She sets herself at her door and watches the mage run back toward the screaming commotion.

Kel’ori pauses, her heart clenched in fear as Spinewing once again is headed straight for her. She takes a deep breath, turns away, and runs into the enclave. “Taveth!” She finds him with Diori in their room. “It’s Spinewing!”

“Wh— _How?_”

“I don’t know! He’s coming this way. You have to stop him!”

The high elf grabs his dagger and runs out the door, slamming it behind him.

The skull of Thal’kiel shimmers into view just in time to smack face-first into the wood. <<Of all the idiots who could have found my spine…>> He turns, sniffs the mage with interest, then zips out the open window to meet Taveth.

Spinewing blows icy fire over the worgen guards that attempt to subdue him. He growls as a sword penetrates his defenses and lodges into his thigh. He grabs the attacker by his arm and slams him against the archway to the enclave; the worgen gives a short yelp before falling limp, helm clattering across the bloody cobblestone.

Taveth skids to a halt at the entrance. “Wh—What are you doing here?” he asks.

<<Yeees, what _are_ you doing here? Weren’t you just about to _lose _that hand of cards, as usual. It really is amazing you can lose against me. I don’t even have a body.>> Thal’kiel hovers in Spinewing’s face, flames tickling the stone of the arch.

Spinewing scoffs, ignoring Taveth for the moment. <<Almost winning is not the same as winning,>> he spits and removes the weapon from his leg; dark, cold blood oozes forth. His blue eyes focus on Taveth and he grins. “Had some help from a friend of yours.” He grunts as another blade lodges into his shoulder. He rips it out and crushes the metal in a hardened fist.

“Get back!” Taveth shouts to the death guards. “You’ll only die!”

A few still move forward warily, but others look to the elf.

“Spinewing, don’t you take another step! What friend? And why did you come _here?_”

Tryxora appears and scowls at the demon, her lips pursed, hip popped out, and fist on her waist. <<You have been so naughty. I’m going to have to punish you, Spiney-winey.>>

Spinewing doesn’t move his feet but continues to fend off his attackers. “The pretty elf boy. The death knight.” He chuckles, pale lips curling into a smile at the succubus. “I’d like to see you try.” He wrenches an arrow from one of the tendrils hanging from his jaw.

Koltira takes a polearm from the fist of an unconscious or dead guard and leaps at the demon’s back.

“Tryx, not now!” Taveth turns his attention back to Spinewing. “If you were coming after me, that was a stupid idea.” He looks at the other guards. “Stop attacking! I have this handled!” He raises his dagger. “I dismiss you, Spinewing.”

“Not for you.” The demon pauses, blinks, then laughs. “Dismiss? To where? Foolish elf, I—” He grunts as a weight lands upon his back. He cranes his neck to see, but the mass of his muscles makes it difficult. He reaches back and growls. “This is growing tiresome.”

Koltira cries out as the demon grabs him by the hair yet again.

“Then why?” Taveth demands as the majority of the guards finally listen to him.

“Why do you always have to stop to talk, Taveth?” The death knight shouts as he drops the weapon and pounds at the fist.

“Just kill it!” a guard screams.

“My friend is connected to that thing! I will _not_ be killing him!” Taveth returns his attention to Spinewing. “Why did you come here? Where’s Grim?”

Spinewing holds Koltira up like a freshly picked turnip and gives the warlock a look. “To check on my child, of course,” he laughs loud enough for Kel’ori to hear. His laughter fades to a low rumble. “I trust you’re eating well, you blonde whore. We require a lot of nutrients, you know. No telling what could happen if you don’t.”

Kel’ori lowers into a corner with Diori and whimpers quietly, a hand over her own mouth so keep from making any noise, tears stream over her cheeks and across the back of her fingers. She shakes her head as if willing nothing to happen. In a sudden rush of fear, she screams out and both girls teleport from the room with a loud _POP!_

The color drains from Taveth’s face. He purses his lips when he hears her disappear, then glares at the demon. “You’re not going anywhere near her ever again. I order you to drop Koltira and then not move at all.”

Immediately when the words reach his ears, the demon stiffens and uncurls the fist holding Koltira’s tresses. He grits his teeth, suddenly aware of the position he’s in. “He’s not in here, you know,” he says down at them with frosty breath before either can make a move. “Gone. Dead.”

Koltira falls to his feet and immediately finds another polearm. “Tav, I’m sorry.” He jams the tip into the vein on the side of the demon’s neck, then swipes it all the way to the other side.

“Koltira, _no!_” Taveth runs forward, but knows he is too late. “Wh-what if Grim…”

“He’s _gone!_”

A look of distress crawls over the demon’s face as he can do nothing but bleed out. His knees weaken and the frosty glow in his eyes fades away. He crashes into the cobblestone beneath him, motionless in a pool of his own blood. The body makes a wet, squelching sound as the muscles recede back to their familiar size and the twisted face of Spinewing returns to the pale, lifeless face of Grimory.

Anarchaia flinches as she feels the ground quake beneath her. “I’ll give you one last chance,” she says quietly up to Alisbeth, a hand slowly raising.

Koltira kneels beside Grimory. “I’m sorry, my friend. I shouldn’t have…”

“Koltira, what in gods names?” Taveth stomps to him.

“Diori…she wanted me to try…”

The high elf frowns and deflates. “I…would’ve done the same. For her.”

Thal’kiel lowers and sighs. <<The number of times I would have loved to do that to Kath’rozak. But alas…no arms.>>

Koltira lifts the demon hunter’s body with great trouble, his hands slipping across the warm blood. He slings him over a shoulder. “Guess I’ll…get him back where he belongs.”

Alisbeth looks up, her smile fading and her grip on the mage faltering as she sees Koltira. She lets out a breath and whispers without a tune, “Such things in life make us ask why; Why do all the men she loves die? Such a tragedy, it cannot deny, that she watched them all with her own eye.”

Anarchaia seizes the moment to transform Alisbeth into a small, gray cat. She bends and whispers a word while running a hand over the fur of her back—a prolonging charm—then scoops the animal into her arms before she can bound off. “I’m sorry, Ali,” she whispers, then meets Koltira on his way back. She sets Alisbeth atop her shoulder and gestures for the death knight to allow her to assist him.

The body glows dimly with violet energy and becomes lighter in Koltira’s grasp. The mage opens the door to Alisbeth’s room and watches silently as he sets it gently back upon the bed. She quietly closes the door.

Koltira stares down at his blood-soaked clothing, unable to meet Anarchaia’s eye. “I’m…sorry. That didn’t go how I’d… I didn’t think that was possible…”

Anarchaia sets Alisbeth on the floor and strides across the room. A warm, damp cloth appears in her hand and she takes Koltira by the chin to wipe his own blood from his nose and lips. Her jaw tenses as she gives him a once over for any wounds she may have missed, then turns, yet wordless, to do the same with Grimory, avoiding looking at his open, gaping throat.

Koltira remains silent, feeling chastised without the mage having to say anything. He takes the cat and sits down, absently petting it. “Diori just wanted him back…” he says after a long time.

Anarchaia conjures a basin to rinse the cloth in and returns to cleaning. She does not turn around. “Did you stop to consider what _he_ would have wanted?” she says just above a whisper.

Koltira flinches at her words. “I did. I said no. But she’s…she’s so sad, Ana. And she has these big blue eyes. And they’re sad, too. I just…wanted to help. I thought the worst I’d get was punched.”

“Did _you_ want to be risen?” she merely responds, finishing with her work and sending the items away.

Koltira purses his lips. “I didn’t want to _die_.”

She turns to look at him from the corner of her eye from behind her black and blue mask. “That wasn’t my question.”

He wipes the back of his wrist across his nose and looks out the destroyed doorway into the city. His other hand absently continues petting the purring cat. “Well, that’s my answer. And now, if _I_ had a child…I’d want to come back. Wouldn’t you?”

Her face softens and she turns away again. A quiet sigh escapes her. “I suppose.” She scowls again. “But still. You shouldn’t just be listening to what children say. And you certainly shouldn’t be raising our friends without consent.” She turns toward him again. “Yes?”

“Ana, I’m… I really was just trying to help. You’re so sad and she’s so sad and I…kinda actually miss him. He didn’t deserve this. I promise I won’t do it again, though. I shouldn’t’ve done it. You’re right.” He sighs as the cat kneads her paws into his thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

Anarchaia remains quiet for another long beat, then sighs slowly. She turns to him and folds her arms, still angry but not wanting to show it. “It’s fine,” she finally says. “If you should apologize to anyone, it’s Kel’ori and the city. He killed eight guards. Most of them mages.”

He flinches again. “I will. I promise.”

The mage nods and pulls over a chair to sit. She stares at the cat in his lap for a long moment. “I don’t know what to do about her,” she says. “She’d have killed you if I’d let her. We can’t let her into the city like this.”

Koltira scrunches one eye. “As a cat? I dunno, it’s probably the least stressful state she’s ever been in.”

Anarchaia purses her lips. “I can’t keep her that way forever. Half an hour at most.”

His eyes widen the slightest bit. “How long has it been?”

Anarchaia looks tiredly at the standing clock on the far wall. “About twenty minutes, give or take. I’d set her down lest you find yourself stroking _her_ instead and you find yourself with another bloodied nose. Though, you’ve technically been doing so already.”

Koltira purses his lips and slowly blinks at the mage. He gives the cat one last, slow pet, then lifts it and sets it gently on Anarchaia’s lap. The cat resumes its needing on the new lap, her purring uninterrupted.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes, takes up the animal, and stands. Bloodstained robes swirling, she sweeps from the room to place Alisbeth in the next room. She locks the door behind her, then returns with a conjured needle and thread. Pushing the chair back up to the bed, she sets to work stitching shut Grimory’s open throat. “I guess I’ll deal with her later,” she mumbles grumpily.

Koltira fidgets a moment longer. “I really am sorry.”

Anarchaia stops in her work and sighs but does not turn around. “I know, Kolt. I believe you. I’m—…I’m not angry. Just…disappointed.” Instead of continuing, her hand lowers to rest on Grimory’s chest, needle still poised. “It’ll be okay,” she says into the quiet of the room.

Koltira nods and no one, folds his arms, and stares out at the city.

~ * ~

Kalecgos jumps, streaking his pen across his parchment. He blinks down at it, then sets his quill in the inkwell. “You know you’re not supposed to teleport _into_ my quarters.” When he receives no reply, he looks up at the two girls on the couch. “Kel?”

Diori clings tightly to her sister as she looks around at her new surroundings. She whimpers. “What happened? Who was that monster? Why did he kind of look like Grim?”

Kalecgos stands over the two. “Who is this? Monster? Miss Nightheart, what is going on?”

Kel’ori shakes her head, not wanting to answer any of the questions. “I’ll go. Just give me a second.”

Her mentor takes sudden note of the bulge under her dress. “Take your time.” He conjures a tray of cakes and looks at Diori. “Have a treat.”

Diori blushes and presses further into Kel’ori’s side, lips still in a tight, tentative frown. She hesitantly takes a cake and nibbles on the edge. “Who are you?” she mumbles shyly, wiping icing from the corner of her lips.

The half-elf smiles kindly. “I’m Archmage Kalec. Who are you?”

Diori can’t help but return the small smile. “Diori. Nightheart.” She pauses. “Or I guess Silversong.” She nibbles more on her treat. “Your room is neat.”

“Not Redblade?” Kel’ori asks, her shaking subsiding. She sniffs. “I’m sorry, Master Kalec. I…I can’t control it. My magic. When I get scared lately I just teleport somewhere I feel safe.”

Kalecgos gives Diori a small nod. “I think it’s rather neat, too.” He looks to Kel’ori. “I’m guessing this is your sister, then. Mind telling me what had you so scared?”

“A demon that…_hurt_ me,” she looks down at her belly for a split second, “somehow got loose in the streets. He was coming for me again. I think he could smell me. There was nowhere I could hide.”

The Archmage blinks and takes a slow breath. “Oh. Did you want to talk in private?” He glances at the young elf beside his apprentice.

“Maybe later?” She also glances at the girl.

Diori shrugs. “You didn’t take _your_ mother’s name. Besides, it’s all I have left of him.” She blinks slowly when she’s regarded again, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’d…like to go back to Taveth. I-I have homework.”

Kel’ori frowns. _My baby will never even know the name of that monster._

Kalecgos nods at the girl. “I can take you back.” He takes her hand and in moments is in the Enclave. “Hmm.” He looks down at the pool of blood in the archway. “Run along, then. I’m sure you know your way.”

Diori nods and, after giving the puddle a glance as well, releases his hand with smile. “Thank you, Mr. Kalec.” She turns and returns to her home within the district.

He releases her and teleports back to his room.

~ * ~

Diori stares intently at her written work, brow knit with anxiety and stress. Her quill sits still for so long that it creates an ugly blotch on the paper. She gasps and pulls it away, then groans and sets it in the well. Slowly she lowers her head onto folded arms.

“What’s the matter?” Taveth asks from behind his own notebook.

Diori shakes her head. “Nothing,” she groans quietly.

Taveth sets down his pen and stands behind her. “Do I have to call you a liar?”

Diori shakes her head again. “I’m just…I don’t know. Sad. Still.”

Taveth takes the girl into a hug. “It’s okay. Where did you and Kel go earlier?”

The little elf lifts her head. “To a neat room full of bones and stuff. There was a blue haired man. He said his name was Kalec. He was really nice.”

Taveth smiles. “Really? I hear Kalec is quite the collector, as well as a great scholar. Is that where she is now?”

She nods. “He wanted to talk with Kel’ori in private. So I asked them to send me back.” She scratches at the blotch of ink on her paper. “Who was that monster?”

Taveth grits his teeth, his lips curving into a frown. “That was… His name is Spinewing. He’s a demon.” He sits on the edge of his bed, hoping those details are enough.

“Why did he look like Grim? Grim is dead.” Tears well in her eyes at merely saying the words. She continues to pick. “Koltira said he’d try to bring him back.”

Taveth’s frown deepens. “I know, he told me. You shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Do you think Grim would want to be like Koltira?” He closes his eyes and decides to just tell her. “Spinewing is the demon soul inside Grimory. When Koltira tried to raise him, Grim isn’t the one that came back.”

Diori’s brow furrows upward, but she doesn’t apologize. “I just wanted to see him again.” She turns around, blue eyes wide with tears and concern. “He has—had a _demon’s soul_ inside him? Wh-…Why? How? Who would ever want a monster like that in their body?”

“It was…to make him stronger. All demon hunters share their souls with a demon. Grim’s is just… Well, he’s powerful. One of the stronger ones. A doomlord.”

_You don’t want these. People don’t like them_. His voice echoes quietly in the back of her head. She turns back to her work but does not reach for her quill. “You aren’t going back there, are you?” she asks after a moment.

He sighs and goes to kneel beside her. “I need to. We have to stop Sargaeras from destroying Azeroth, like he did Argus. We have to protect our home.”

She looks at him with sad eyes. “I understand. Just…don’t die, too. Okay?”

“I’ll do my best. I have strong friends to protect me. Just like Grim protected Kel’ori.” He flinches and looks at the floor. “Though, I hope none of them suffer the same fate.”


	38. Chapter 38

Anarchaia appears on the main deck of the Vindicaar in a flurry of green sparkles. She makes her way to the mess hall, then sighs when she finds no one there waiting for her. A familiar face catches her eye, however, and she gives a small wave as she trots up.

“Good morning small mage,” Eophen greets with a tired smile. “How do you fare?”

“Well, thank you. You haven’t seen…?”

The draenei shakes his head. “Not for a while, actually. Many days. Did something happen?”

“O-oh. Uh. N-no. Not really. Heh.” She sits across from him to wait.

Taveth descends the stairs with a fidgeting Kel’ori, who is trying to look less pregnant.

She groans. “I look like it’s been four months or something! It’s only been, what, four _weeks_? Oh, gods, please tell me they have bacon.”

Koltira brushes past the two as he runs down the stairs. He finds the mage and strides to her. “You didn’t wait for me!”

Anarchaia’s head jerks in Koltira’s direction and she blinks. “You said you’d only be a moment…”

Eophen shifts uncomfortably. “It has been a while since last we spoke. How goes your excursions?” he says to Koltira in an attempt to ease the tension.

Koltira shifts and eyes Eophen. “I’m not sure yet.” He looks down at the mage again. “A moment is any amount of time. I just wanted to do one thing. It took longer than I expected.” He turns back to the draenei. “How have the engines been?”

Taveth sits beside Anarchaia and smiles. “Good morning.” He casts his gaze to Eophen and his smile grows shy. “And to you, as well.”

Kel’ori sets her tray and pre-filled doggy bag down and sits beside Taveth. “Mmm, when I find out what animal they take this from, I’m starting a farm of them.”

Anarchaia looks away, half guilty and half irritated. “I’m sorry. I’ll wait for you next time.” She returns Taveth’s smile as though not having just been reprimanded. “Morning.”

Eophen gives a nervous grin with one side of his mouth. “The engines are well. As functional as always.” He looks at Kel’ori’s plate and chuckles. “Marsuul.”

Koltira for a moment thinks about telling her what he was doing, but instead just finds an empty seat to wait in.

Kel’ori’s brow furrows. “What’s a marsuul?”

Taveth snerks. “It’s…a rodent.”

“Like a rat?”

Taveth nods and Kel’ori pauses in her chewing. She looks to the draenei for confirmation.

Eophen lifts his blond eyebrows at her and nods slowly.

She begins chewing again. “This is a good rat. Didn’t Ali have one as a pet? Where is that thing?”

“It ran off during the last fight,” Anarchaia says absently, running the tip of a finger on the table in circles. “After Grim…”

Eophen blinks at the mage. “The demon hunter? And the other elf woman. Where are they? Too tired to continue?” He chuckles.

The Nighthearts look down at the table in unison. Koltira turns his head away.

“We…lost Grim. About a week ago,” Koltira says slowly. “Ali is…out of her mind with grief.”

Eophen’s smile immediately fades. “I… I am sorry,” he says with regret. “I had no idea. My condolences.”

“Have you heard of the Illidari coming back after they die?” Anarchaia blurts.

The draenei swallows and gives a shrug. “Not the ones that have been rushed to our infirmary, no. I am sorry.”

Kel’ori continues to eat, but unenthusiastically.

Taveth forces a smile. “We’re trying to remain hopeful.”

Koltira clears his throat. “We should get going. Kel, if you could eat faster, please?”

She makes a dramatic display of shoving a whole wad of bacon into her mouth. “Berrer?” she asks over the mess.

Anarchaia speaks to Eophen though her eyes lock on Kel’ori. “There’s a position open. Heh. Could use…some help.”

The engineer perks. “I…could accompany you.” He smiles. “It would be nice to see something other than the engines for a change.” He stands. “Allow me to retrieve my armor and I will return.”

The mage watches him go. “Do you think the five of us will be enough?” she asks to no one in particular. “The six of us last time were barely adequate.”

Taveth frowns. “Someone who could keep one of us from dying again would be helpful… Diori is worried. She didn’t want to let me leave this morning and refuses to return to Stormwind.”

Kel’ori perks. “Docra can—”

“No.” Koltira makes a face. “I already turned her down back when we were headed to the Halls of Valor. And she already demonstrated what happens when she heals a death knight.”

Taveth’s brow furrows. “Oh, that was Docra? I honestly hadn’t met her yet. It hadn’t even occurred to me.”

“What happened?” Kel’ori asks, trying to eat quickly without stuffing her mouth too full.

“Ali was left screaming on the floor,” Koltira says.

“You vomit when you take the beacon,” Taveth says. “It would be the same if Docra were to use any of her holy magic on you.”

Kel’ori points a piece of bacon at her brother. “Let’s not get Docra.”

Koltira looks to Anarchaia. “Should I find someone for us?”

Anarchaia looks directly up at him for the first time since that morning. She brings up a thumb to idly chew on through both mask and glove. “No.” She stands. “I have a guy.” She sweeps from the room.

Eophen returns minutes later clad in gold and crystalline armor, a large hammer resting on a shoulder. He grins embarrassedly. “The armor I earned after the trials. It has honestly not seen any action since.” He blinks. “Where is little mage?”

Koltira blinks at Taveth as the high elf stares at the lightforged as though transfixed. He shakes his head. “She went to get another. A healer.”

“Shouldn’t take long. I think.” Kel’ori looks at her plate. “She can take a little longer. I’m not finished eating.”

Eophen looks through the lot, faint confusion in his knit brow. “I can heal.”

Koltira laughs lightly, vaguely reminded of the draenei paladin who only spoke broken orcish. “Holy power is not undead friendly. I don’t like painful healing. It’s nothing personal at all.”

“And I don’t want to vomit,” Kel’ori mumbles.

The draenei’s embarrassed grin returns and he sets his hammer down to lean on it. “I forget myself. I do not deal with your kind often.”

“_Stop pulling!_” Gildwynn wrenches his mail-clad arm away from Anarchaia’s grasp. Instead of the usual engineering apron and tunic, his short body is garbed in boiled leather and feathers as well as a cowl covering his neck and shoulders. “I already agreed. You don’t have to drag me here like I’m going to change my mind.” He rolls his shoulder, then blinks at the group across the short distance from the doorway.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Anarchaia mutters, folding her arms. “All set,” she calls to the others.

Koltira waves a dismissive hand at the draenei. “It’s okay. You’re not the first, nor will you be the last.” He stands, smiling at Anarchaia. “Oh good, let’s get going.”

Taveth stands, hurriedly sketching out the draenei clad in his shining armor within his personal journal.

Kel’ori shoves what she can into her mouth and tilts the rest into her sack. Mouth stuffed as she forces the bag into her satchel, she stops, her cheeks turning a bright pink. The mage spins back around and chews the food in her mouth, the swallows then over-sized gob, cringing as it forces its way down. She turns again, pulling her silver cloak over as though to hide her belly. “Gildwynn! What a surprise. What brings you here? And dressed so snappy, too.” She fiddles with a feather as she grins down at him.

“Ana said she needed a healer,” the goblin responds with lightly tinted cheeks. “I figured it’d be a good opportunity to let the twins…” He cringes. “_Watch the shop_.”

“I’m paying him.” Anarchaia gently returns the smile to Koltira before turning to make her way to the upper deck.

Eophen lifts his hefty hammer back to his shoulder and gives the goblin a once over. “Have not seen many of your kind, either.” He smiles and extends a hand. “Eophen.”

Gildwynn stares at the massive hand for a moment, then shakes it. “You’re rather…pale. And golden. For a draenei. Gildwynn. Steamvolt.”

“A pleasure. It shall be a thrill to fight beside you.”

Gildwynn pulls his ears back as the gargantuan man clomps past. “Right. Fight.”

Kel’ori’s smile dims a little. “Right. Of course.” She clears he throat awkwardly and takes Taveth by the elbow to urge him after Anarchaia. “Better get going.”

Koltira holds out his hand, motioning up after the others. “After you. Please.”

“The prophet and High Exarch have made their way to Mac’aree,” Artificer Romuul explains as the group nears. “I have the beacon ready to send any parties willing to accompany them.”

Anarchaia frowns. “S-so…no portal.”

“Something wrong with that?” Gildwynn says, rapping a knuckle against the golden platform and listening to the sound it makes.

“N-… No.” Anarchaia sighs. “No.”

Kel’ori frowns. “Oh. Um, Tav. Tav…._Taveth!”_

“Hmm? What? What did I miss?”

She whispers in his ear.

“Oh. Hmm…”

“Aim away from us,” Koltira says. “Maybe our large friend, here, can catch you if you faint?” He pats Eophen’s arm, then goes to the undead mage. “Let’s get this over with.”

Gildwynn’s ears perk. “Am I missing someth——” He grunts as Anarchaia shoves him onto the beacon platform and is gone the next second. She sighs and nods, clenching her fists. She takes Koltira by the hand and follows the goblin.

Eophen chuckles at the remaining elves. “Does this means of travel not sit well with you? I will wait on the other side as suggested.” He gives a curt salute and is next to disappear in a bright flash.

“You can go first,” Kel’ori says. “And move out of the way, I guess.” Once Taveth disappears, the mage clenches her fists. “Please don’t puke. Please don’t puke. Please don’t puke.” Once on the other side, she groans, her breakfast rising in her stomach. Before she can vomit, though, she tips over in a faint.

With ease and having anticipated, Eophen outstretches an arm and catches the elf girl before she can fall too far. He gives the group an empathetic shrug. “A good thing I came, eh?”

Gildwynn pulls his ears back and rests on a hip. “Yeah. The best.” He scowls as the mage beside him nudges his shoulder.

“Let’s get going. Just…throw her over your shoulder, I guess.” Anarchaia rubs at her aching joints as she looks around the surrounding area. Golden grass flutters in an invisible, strangely warm breeze. Alien trees and ruins litter the land. In the distance, near a large stone archway, stands Velen.

Eophen opts to cradle Kel’ori in his arms instead, hammer fastened to his belt at his hip.

“Thank you,” Taveth says to the draenei, finally closing his book and stowing it.

Koltira catches up to Anarchaia and sets his palm against the small of her back. “Just the one time, right?” He gives her a comforting smile. “I’m…not mad at you. You know that, right?” He gives Velen the faintest of nods.

_Perhaps I’m still angry with you_. Anarchaia gives a tentative frown beneath her mask, but her voice flows through in its usual contented tone. “I know. Sorry for leaving you behind all the same.”

Velen regards them with sadness in his eyes. “So much pain here. So much…torment. This battle here rages on yet. Echoes of the brave who lost their lives to aid me in my escape.” He turns to gesture into the arena below a gentle slope. Ghostly images of Eredar and draenei flicker in and out of existence, fighting on as though they yet remained. “You are the first to come here.” He smiles gently behind his great white beard. “My first request is to task you with activating the ancient defense pylons so that those who remain here may battle no longer.”

Eophen nods dutifully as though he weren’t carrying an unconscious, pregnant elf in his arms. “At once, Prophet.”

Gildwynn folds his arms. “Pressing some buttons? I happen to be an expert.”

Velen nods. “It’s been a while. I’m willing to bet a few are missing some pieces, but they’ve likely not gone far. I’m going to do my best to purify the surrounding area to ease their suffering. Good luck.”

Kel’ori takes in a sharp breath and twitches awake. “Oh! Uh, hi Eophen.” She gives an embarrassed smile.

Eophen returns the grin and sets her down gingerly. “Are you well again?”

Taveth gives Velen a small smile. “Prophet.”

“Try not to get hurt,” he says, a smile threatening his lips.

“Heh. We have a healer this time. I won’t be incurring his…‘protection’ again.”

Koltira glares out at the images of the fighting draenei. “Maybe one of them has what we need. Let’s see if we can kill a ghost.” Without waiting, he strides to one and swings Byfrost out. It hits the spirit echo, who turns around to attack him as the other echo runs away to safety. The death knight easily dispatches the echo; it falls into a pile of ash, a purple crystal plopped on the top. He picks it up and blows it off. “Uhh…no buttons on this thing.”

Gildwynn snatches the crystal from Koltira and gives it a quick inspection. “Power core,” he says simply and strides past him toward the nearest conduit. A specter approaches, but he holds out a clawed hand and it’s lifted from the ground, suspended in a cyclone. More rush to meet him as he nears the pylon.

Anarchaia dispatches the two that lift their weapons with blasts of fire and smiles down at the goblin as he places the core atop the device. Without warning, the pylon hums to life and the crystal atop glows brightly in anticipation.

The high elf mage nods at the lightforged. “Thank you.” She looks out at the land. “So, what are we doing?”

“Getting the defenses running,” Taveth says, his attention on one of his research journals as he draws the scene.

“Oh. I suppose I should go help.” She smiles up at the draenei and sets a hand on his bicep. “Thank you, again.” She pokes her brother’s cheek. “Stay out of trouble.”

Taveth pauses. “Why does everyone think I’m going to get killed out here?”

Koltira clears the area of the next pylon to allow Gildwynn access to the device. He stops in the doorway to look at a towering Eredar spirit standing in an archway, laughing at the carnage that had happened so long ago. “He kind of looks like I want to kill him,” the death knight says to no one.

Anarchaia can’t help but chuckle. “I’ve got your back,” she says, hands filling with flame.

The banished sprit breaks free of its bindings and, after a shake of her head, runs for Gildwynn with rage in her eyes. “The prophet shall not escape!”

The goblin turns and pulls his ears back. He lifts a hand and a pointed shard of earth juts from the ground, sending the spirit sprawling. “A little late for that, ain’t it?”

She screams as lightning courses through her until her being bursts into a ghostly puff of smoke.

Gildwynn frowns when she leaves behind no crystal. “I guess only certain ones hold the power cores.”

Eophen smiles after Kel’ori, then perks at the screaming. He nods to the goblin and make easy work of another specter, its body disintegrating against the broad end of his hammer. He picks up the small crystal left behind and flips it in his hand. “Or perhaps your luck is just poor.” He grins.

Gildwynn’s eyelids lower and he turns away to dispatch more offending spirits.

Koltira smirks at the mage and runs forward, cutting down lesser souls in his path. He throws a red ring under the huge echo and swipes him with his sword.

Kel’ori’s nose wrinkles and she sets her wrist to her nostrils. “Um, anything I can do to help?” she asks, smiling down at the goblin.

Anarchaia freezes solid another spirit, then blasts it to pieces with a large ball of fire. She picks up the little crystal in the midst of the chunks. “Three more!” she calls over her shoulder.

Eophen swiftly destroys a pair of echoes attacking a visage of a draenei paladin. The two smile at one another and he sets the crystal in its place.

Gildwynn looks up at Kel’ori, blushes, then does a double take. “Uh…don’t get yourself into trouble? You all right?” With a pillar of lava, he vanquishes an echo that happens to be running past to engage a draenei.

Kel’ori brings her cloak over to cover her stomach and smiles nervously. “I’m fine. You? _Eek!_” She hops sideways and erupts into a series of translucent explosions, each one a different color. The spirit echo beside her weakens and crumbles to dust. She stares at the pile, then smiles. “I killed it!”

“It was already dead, Kel,” Taveth says absently from his book. He picks up the crystal and holds it out to Eophen, then Gildwynn, unsure who should receive the item.

“Can’t even let me have that one?” Her face pinches and she looks around at the others, bringing her wrist to her nose again.

The echo slams his massive hoof into Koltira’s chest, sending him flying across the courtyard.

Eophen plucks the small crystal from Taveth’s fingers, then flinches as Koltira crashes into the dirt a few yards away. “Uhm. On second thought,” he takes Taveth’s hand and pushes the crystal back into it with a smile and a faint flush, then pulls his hammer from his shoulder before running forward.

“_Kolt!_” Next in his sights, Anarchaia’s eyes widen up as the demon swings a claw down. She braces herself with a shield of ice, but before it manifests, a spray of sparks showers her. She squints an eye open.

Eophen grits sharp teeth together against the strain of the demon’s strength pushing into the handle of his hammer. He grunts and swings forward, staggering the echo back a couple feet.

Gildwynn’s form shifts into that of a ghostly wolf as he dashes past Kel’ori and to the death knight. “You gonna live? Er…well…you know what I mean.” He shifts back to lift a hand, summoning a soothing stream of water that fusses over Koltira, healing bruises and relieving aches.

Taveth holds the crystal tight, the tips of his ears pink, as he doesn’t move from his spot. A purple swirl opens up beside him and Tryxora leaps out, her hands on her hips.

“What are you doing here?” he growls.

<<I felt a disturbance in the Nether!>>

“You…what?”

She grins and rubs the top of his head. <<You’re in trouble. Never fear, master, I’ll protect you.>> She runs off, attacking spirits locked in battle with each other and paying the li6ving no mind.

“She’s kind of an idiot,” Kel’ori says behind her hand.

Taveth ignores her turning his attention to Eophen. He does his best to catch some of the battle in quick drawings.

Koltira sits up. “Yeah. Just got the wind knocked out of me. And my skeleton.” He pats the goblin on the back, then stands. “Thanks.” He runs back at the giant spirit, teeth grit. “Hey, asshole! I’m not done with you!”

“No,” Eophen warns over his shoulder. His weapon glows with holy Light. “With all due—” he grunts as he throws a swing at the demon’s leg to gain his attention again, “—respect little elf, but you are…little. Heh.” He dodges a swipe of claws. “Please, focus your energies on his core. It is where echoes contain the bulk of their power.” He brings his hammer around toward the spot but is blocked and staggered. A shield of light appears to protect him from a counter.

Koltira’s brow lowers at the draenei. “I’m not as fragile as you think.” He runs forward, immediately gaining the spirit’s attention.

Anarchaia nods and sends a stream of nonstop fire toward the echo. The demon growls and turns to deflect the magic with a hardened spike protruding from his shoulder. He rakes his claws at Koltira, but the death knight parries. He runs to the others as sparks of magic fly at them from nearby echoes. A lavender shell bursts from around him to protect them in the transparent dome.

Anarchaia blinks and looks around her. “Oh. Heh. I honestly forget you can do that.” She summons a gargantuan spike of ice. It crashes against the back of the demon and he stumbles, leaving Eophen open to land a stunning blow to his head.

“I did not know death knights could do such things,” he muses, then grunts as he’s punched in the core, knocking him back.

The demon turns back to Koltira, nostrils flared with rage. He stomps toward him, the mage’s shards of ice exploding against his shoulders and back. Koltira reaches his hand up and pulls the life force from the demon. It weakens and falls to a knee.

He stares at his hand. “I didn’t actually expect that to work.” He quickly swings Byfrost around to sever the demon’s head. Khazaduum crumbles into a large pile of ash. The elf smirks at the draenei. “Not so bad for a _little_ elf.” He saunters past to check on the Nighthearts.

Eophen gives the elf an apologetic smile. “I did say _with all due respect_.”

Anarchaia returns the grin. “He’s just sassy. Don’t be offended. Heh.” She takes a moment to look at the pile of spectral dust She jumps as an echo explodes beside her, its form crumbling to reveal a small crystal in the grass.

Gildwynn purses his lips up at her. “Not really a spot for daydreaming,” he chides, fingers still smoldering. He grins. “Though we both know nothing stops you from doing that anyway.” He snatches up the crystal and makes for the nearest pylon.

She blushes lightly. “Sorry. Oh! I have another!” She relinquishes the one she’d picked up earlier and the goblin dutifully takes it.

Eophen makes his way back to Taveth and Kel’ori, vanquishing a couple of the few remaining foes along the way. “You still have the crystal, yes?”

Taveth smiles and holds up the little purple crystal. “Right here. Heh.”

Eophen takes it and offers a smile. “Well done,” he says in a quieter tone than intended and turns to trot to the nearest pylon.

Kel’ori smirks and pats Taveth’s head. “Oh, good boy. Well done.”

He shies from her and scowls. “I’ll tell the Prophet the defenses are nearly in place.” He returns to where Velen looks out over the land.

Gildwynn dispatches a couple of Eredar that are vehemently attacking a pair of defenders. “We only need one more,” he says when they relinquish no crystals.

Anarchaia destroys one with a pillar of flame then frowns in dismay. “It’s always the last one that takes the longest.”

“Got it,” Koltira says, flipping the crystal in the air, then catching it in his hand. He tosses it at the goblin.

Having only turned a second too late, the goblin fumbles with the item. He gives the death knight a grateful nod, then makes his way to the remaining device. The three of them whir to life but little else happens. He purses his lips.

Anarchaia kneels as something catches her eye. Where the echo of Khazaduum had fallen sits a humming crystal, larger than the rest, swirling with energy.

“Arkonite.”

She jumps at the sound of Eophen’s voice. “O-oh. Heh.” She holds it up. “Made by Haataru, yes?”

The draenei lifts his eyebrows and takes the keystone. “Yes. You are well educated.”

“Twenty years under my belt.” The mage pauses, then releases a breathy, uncomfortable laugh.

Eophen chuckles and turns. “Now, the conduit.”

“It’d be at the center to even the flow of energy,” Gildwynn says, straightening his cowl.

Eophen nods. “For efficiency, yes. Since there is none here, I imagine it is underground.” He heads for the single set of stairs leading into the earth. “Though this hardly seems like the center,” he mumbles before disappearing down the steps.

Velen steps forward after setting a gentle hand on Taveth’s shoulder. A moment later a shell of protective light spreads around the area and the remaining spirits disappear in whorls of blue glow. “My comrades will no longer fight their endless battle for my sake. You have my utmost gratitude.”

Taveth nods and smiles, most of his attention on his journal. A beacon drifts down and embeds itself in the center of the area.

The prophet walks down the steps to stand beside the glowing, golden beacon. He eyes each one in turn and nods. “There is an item here, called the Crown of the Triumvirate. It will aid us in this battle. Meet Archmage Y’mera to the northeast. I believe she may have a lead at the ruins of the academy.”

Koltira nods and smirks at Anarchaia. “You hear that? A magic academy. How excited are you?”

Anarchaia’s shoulders raise and she curls her fingers against her cheeks, her wide smile hidden beneath her mask. She hurriedly lifts her dress-like robes and bounds off in the direction they’d been informed of, nearly stumbling in a heeled boot but easily recovering in her excitement.

Koltira races after the mage. “Ana, don’t get too far ahead.”

Eophen regards the prophet with a nod. “I have not seen Y’mera in some time. Always illusive. Be well, Prophet.” He follows the mage and shaman albeit at a more leisurely pace, hammer over a shoulder.

Taveth grins at the paladin, but casts a longing gaze after Anarchaia, doing his best to contain his excitement as it bubbles in his chest.

Gildwynn snerks at the back of the group, then follows as a small, ghostly wolf.


	39. Chapter 39

Not having realized the exact distance, the group slows in their progress as the day seemingly wears on them. All but the undead mage, who periodically has to turn to urge them on.

“My paws are killing me,” the shaman laments from the back, his voice radiating from within him rather than his throat. “Ana, slow down.”

She turns and frowns beneath her mask, still lightly jogging backward. “But magic! Learning!” She points at Taveth. “You didn’t take me on your Azsuna trip, so I missed out on that one.”

Eophen chuckles, sweating some in his plate armor but not appearing winded. “Are you sure you are the scholar?” he directs down to Taveth with a playful smirk.

Taveth smiles shyly up at the draenei. “We’re both scholars, really. Ana is more a student, I believe. Though we both share a passion for knowledge, of course. Heh.”

Kel’ori instinctually reaches down to scratch the ghost wolf behind the ear like a dog. “You get used to the walking. Kind of.” She makes a face. “Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of this stench.”

Gildwynn pulls his ears back and leans into the scratch, eyes closing. He blinks his glowing eyes and sniffs at the air. “Stench? I don’t smell nothin’. It actually smells pretty nice here.”

Eophen smiles and sets a hand on Taveth’s head. “I am messing with you.” He musses the elf’s hair to solidify his point.

Taveth flinches as hairs come loose from his ribbon and fall around his face in disarray. “Oh. Heh.” He smiles up at the man, then sets to fixing his hair.

The mage cocks her eyebrow. “You don’t smell that? It’s like a…sickly sweet smell. Like flowers covered in old apples.” She breathes in through her nose and coughs at the smell. “And it’s stuck in my robes.”

Koltira breathes in dramatically and lets it out on a long _Aahhh_. He smirks over his shoulder. “The perks of a severely diminished sense of smell.”

“There’s nothing _to_ smell,” Taveth says.

The other mage clasps her hands at the small of her back and sways as she continues to walk at a brisk pace, despite being told to slow down. “I don’t smell anything, either,” Anarchaia says a few yards ahead.

“Hard to smell something when you’re thirty miles away,” the wolf calls again, tail low in exhaustion.

Eophen offers the elf woman a helpless shrug. “Perhaps you are ill? Some maladies cause strange smells that do not exist.”

Kel’ori stops and frowns ahead. “Oh… Oohhh. Shouldn’t it just be a stronger smell? But you guys don’t smell anything.”

Taveth shrugs. “I could bring Thal’kiel out and see if he knows anything.”

The mage sneers.

Koltira jogs to Anarchaia’s side and grabs her around the waist, lifting her in the air. He stops walking and leans close. “Your puppy is exhausted. Maybe we can stop for a drink of water?”

Anarchaia kicks her legs gently in surprise, then goes limp in his arms. “And here I thought my dog was dead.”

Gildwynn immediately sits when the others pause for a breath. His form shimmers back to a small goblin reclining in the grass and he lifts a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. “At least it’s not hot here.”

Eophen sits beside him and produces a metal flask from the finely crafted pack at his hip. “Mac’aree is the most temperate of the zones here. It even has flowing water, yet.”

She looks over her shoulder at the tired party and purses her lips. “I’m beginning to miss when it was just you and me.”

Koltira chuckles and nuzzles the cheek of her mask. “I always prefer when it’s just us. But we need their help.”

Kel’ori sets herself gently on a broken pillar base and digs out her sack of bacon. “Mmm. This stuff keeps so well. Would a rat farm be easy to maintain? What would I feed them to make them taste so good?”

Taveth makes a face. “Because that’s not creepy at all… Ana, could I bother you for some ice water?”

Anarchaia gives the death knight an exasperated look he cannot see and simultaneously lifts a hand to conjure a chilled cup of water before Taveth. “It seems more like they need ours,” she drones quietly.

“You’re a life saver.” Taveth smiles.

Koltira’s brow lowers and he sets her down. “Is something wrong? Do you not enjoy the company of your friends?”

Anarchaia blinks, her own behavior suddenly coming into question by herself. “U-uhm. No. Heh.” She shrugs and strides back to the group. “Don’t mention it.”

Gildwynn pulls his eyes away from the couple at the sound of the word _rat_ and looks over at Kel’ori. “Uh…rat bacon?” He turns his look of confused disgust to the draenei.

Eophen laughs. “They are not rats. More like…how do you say…weasels?”

“Comforting.”

Kel’ori frowns and turns away slightly, suddenly very conscious of her meal. “It’s almost the only thing I don’t vomit back up.”

Gildwynn tilts his head back to look at the mage on the rock. “That bad, eh? I hear soda water really helps.” He clears his throat. “At least…it helped my cousin.”

Eophen looks from the goblin to the elf. “Are you ill? Perhaps you should have stayed on the ship.”

Kel’ori blinks at the draenei, then looks down at the small bump of her stomach as though confirming for herself that it is, indeed, visible. “No. It’s… I’m fine.”

Taveth clears his throat. “So, Eophen, how are you liking being off the ship? For a…whole hour…”

Eophen’s golden eyes briefly follow Kel’ori’s but flick to Taveth’s the second he’s addressed. He smiles, the scars over his lips stretching. “I have not spent my entire life aboard the Vindicaar. Only the past couple months. But it is nice to see Mac’aree again…and that it is in one piece. Mostly.”

Gildwynn’s ears lower. “Imagine if Azeroth were like this…”

Anarchaia lowers to her knees at the edge of the group. “We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Taveth nods with determination. “I refuse to let my little sister live in a broken world such as this.”

Kel’ori hums in agreement. “Diori is too sweet for this shit.”

“If you’re all rested enough…” Koltira says, eyes scanning their surroundings.

Anarchaia quickly rises to her feet once again at the sound of Diori’s name. She scowls beneath her mask. “Yes, let’s keep a move on.”

Gildwynn groans. “Where do you get all this energy from?” He stands and again shifts into a ghastly wolf, following the mage as she trudges off.

Eophen gives the Nightheart pair a helpless shrug. “Impatient, that one.” He stands and offers Taveth a hand up.

Kel’ori whimpers and pushes to her sore feet. “I feel like my shoes shrunk.”

“Do you need to go back?” Koltira asks, pausing in case he needs to escort her.

“No, I’ll be fine. I just want to stop hurting in weird places. And stop being hungry…for _rats_. And to stop smelling that gods-awful smell! Seriously, how can _none_ of you smell that?”

The spectral lupine pricks his ears at the conversation behind him, then returns to push himself into the backs of Kel’ori’s knees until she falls onto his back. “Just you, girlie. I don’t smell nothin’.” He trots off after Anarchaia, biting his tongue on how much heavier she feels.

~ * ~

After a long while the group approaches a raised area surrounded by ornate, crumbling walls. Within the entrance stands a draenei mage, hands on her hips and thinking aloud to herself in her native language. She starts when addressed by Anarchaia.

“Oh! Adventurers. Hello! I was just trying to get this construct back up and working. It most likely holds important information on the Sigil of Awakening, but…I cannot seem to get it working. Would you be interested in helping me?”

Kel’ori hops off the wolf and sits to hug him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. Let’s see if I can conjure some water for you.” She swishes a hand through the air. Water splashes down in front of them, leaving fish slapping at the cobblestone. She deflates and sets her hands in her lap. “I tried.”

“Heh. That’s cool. Not a big deal. Don’t stress it.” Heart filled with pity, the wolf gently bends down to lick the water from the blades of grass.

Koltira nods at the draenei. “That’s what we’re here for. What can we do?”

“We once stored great quantities of energy in conduits throughout the Conservatory. They are still functional, but only just. My device has enough magic to stabilize eight or so, which should be enough to access the whole network. Take it.” She holds out a brightly glowing crystal.

Koltira makes a face. “I’m not touching that. No offense, but the last thing I touched that looked like that burned my hand. Is there anything else you’d like help with while we’re at it?”

Y’mera nods as she offers the crystal to Eophen. “The area has been overrun by panthara, attracted here by the magic of the Wakeners. You cannot avoid killing them, so you may as well see if you cannot reclaim some of the power they have…consumed.”

Anarchaia fidgets, both restless and reserved. “I may not like large animals but I certainly don’t like killing them just as much.”

Eophen pockets the crystal and gives an apologetic smile to the undead woman. “We are really doing them a favor. If we do not cull their numbers, not only will they attack adventurers, but they will outgrow their food source.”

Anarchaia pouts. “Don’t logic me.” She makes her way across the courtyard.

Koltira shrugs. “I thought you preferred logic.”

Anarchaia whirls to look at Koltira with an exaggerated scowl on her face. She simply points at him and opens her mouth, then huffs and turns back around to regretfully blast a panthara with numbing ice until it is completely encased.

Kel’ori frowns as the others pass and abruptly stands, sweeping past the spectral wolf to follow them.

Gildwynn gives the elf woman a fleeting glance before following.

Taveth jumps when he looks up from sketching the construct to find the others leaving without him. He runs to catch up, nose still in his book as he puts some finishing touches on it.

Eophen takes his cue and rushes forward with his hammer. He whispers a quiet apology in Draenei before smashing the beast to frozen pieces. “Eh. Perhaps I am with small mage on this one.” Not even before he finishes his thought, a second panthara leaps onto his armored back to bite at his neck and ear. He growls and throws the animal over his shoulder, then bashes its skull with the pommel of his weapon. He chuckles, panting. “Never mind.”

The goblin bounds forward, form shaping back. He lifts a hand and a stream of water bursts from the center before surrounding the draenei. “Sorry. Heh.”

Eophen gives the much smaller man a thumbs up as his wounds close. He turns to swing at more oncoming beasts attracted by the commotion.

Koltira gives Anarchaia’s bicep a gentle squeeze, then runs to a large gathering of beasts. He drops a red ring of decay, then reaches up and makes a fist. Purple tendrils snake out to grab all nearby pantharas and drag them in front of the death knight.

“Efficient,” Taveth mumbles, sketching out a panthara in his book.

Kel’ori purses her lips and musters all her determination. She forms a large orange ball in her palms, glaring at the color. When she releases it, she teleports forward into the collection of beasts before Koltira; the orange ball shoots strait up in the air, then falls back down and shatters, spraying harmless sparks over Taveth and Anarchaia.

“That’s not what I wanted to do!” the mage shouts and runs to use Koltira as a shield.

Anarchaia cringes away from the sparks, then relaxes and shoots Taveth a look of utter bemusement, hoping he can feel her irritation through her mask. She turns just in time to see the golden, glowing gem being tossed her way.

“Catch!” Eophen calls before another beast leaps upon him. “The essence!”

Instinctively she closes her fingers around the bauble, then yipes and drops it to the grass.

Gildwynn, again on paws, sweeps by to grab the item in his teeth. “Butterfingers,” he laughs, then holds the trinket over the shattered panthara; a small amount of purple energy lifts from the center of the pieces and flows into it. He shifts back to throw a cloud of healing rain over both Eophen and Koltira—pendant still in his teeth—before returning to his wolf visage and running to push Kel’ori onto his back again lest she get herself into more danger. Kel’ori squeals and holds on tight as the wolf carries her away.

Koltira drags the beast from Eophen’s shoulders and slams it to the ground with the rest. When the final panthora drops dead to the ground, he lets out a breath. “Was that enough?”

Taveth strides past to an energy conduit. He finds the panel on the side an pops it open. “Looks like a job for an engineer.” He smiles at Eophen, then remembers Gildwynn. His eyes bounce between the two. “Whoever…wants to…”

The goblin pulls his ears back some. “Kinda babysittin’ here,” he says more to Eophen than anyone else.

After a small thank you to Koltira, the draenei gives a humored smile to Gildwynn and makes his way over to the conduit. He sets his hammer down to bend at the knee and peer inside. He tsks when he has to force his large fingers into the small space, then grins and sits back when it whirs to life. “Simple, really.” He chuckles and takes up his hammer to trot toward the next.

Kel’ori scrambles to stand beside the wolf, cheeks pink as she straightens her robes. “I don’t require babysitting. I can take care of… Wait for me!” she calls and trots after the draenei.

Koltira drags a panthara away from a conduit and keeps its attention. “Let’s move this along.”

Once all the conduits are fully restored and enough essence to make the crystal glow brightly is gathered from the defeated panthara, the party returns to the opening of the amphitheatre. The construct remains quiet when exposed to the full crystal. Archmage Y’mera gives it a swift kick and the head and arms slowly raise accompanied by an electrical hum.

“I am restored,” the Vigilant says in a low voice.

The Archmage deflates. “Oh, no. I know that voice.”

“Exile Y’mera,” the Vigilant drones. “Conservatory resources are not available to one of your… Status.”

“But what of them?”

The machine sighs. “I’m technically obligated to allow newcomers to attempt the trials.”

“Please, tell us of these trials,” Taveth says, pushing up his spectacles with a knuckle as he readies his journal.

Vigilant Quoram sighs and tells the party about the three challenges they must pass: tenacity, cunning, and mastery. “At the opposite end of the Conservatory you will find a large structure. Once inside, your goal is to overcome all the obstacles placed before you. Emerge unscathed and I will be forced to consider your will strong enough to proceed,” he says about the first. He takes a deep breath and continues. “The path to the left will take you to a set of three statues. Use them to collect a Mark of Cunning. To preserve the integrity of this trial, I will not be able to provide hints. If you do, by some miracle, happen to succeed, I will formally recognize your…” he eyes Taveth, “brilliance.”

The high elf frowns as he notes the doubtful tone in the construct’s voice.

The Vigilant shifts and continues. “You will fight what remains of Archimonde’s greatest pupils. These three once held such power in their own disciplines that the Conservatory remembers them now. Their echoes will try to kill you. Best all three with all your limbs intact and I will recognize your strength.” He points a metal finger at Y’mera. “You will stay here and stay out of the trials.”

The draenei purses her lips, then shrugs. “These other-worlders can handle themselves.”

Koltira shoulders his sword and nods to the lightforged woman. “We’ll return swiftly.” He leads the others to the left and stops at three statues. “Okay, bookish ones. Cunning. You’re up.” He motions for the two mages and Taveth to step up to the stone book.

Anarchaia turns toward the death knight. “Actually, why don’t you and Eophen go attempt the trial of mastery? Taveth and I will solve this puzzle, and Kel and Gil can go try out tenacity?” She shrugs. “Might be quicker?”

The goblin furrows his brow and sets his weight on a hip. “I don’t fancy myself the tenacious type.” He glances up at Kel’ori, then looks away. “But if you’re down…?”

Koltira shrugs and motions at the draenei. “Lets go smash things, I guess. Good luck.” He sets his hand on the small of Anarchaia’s back just before leaving, then nods at the other pair.

Kel’ori smiles nervously. “As long as it doesn’t require my magic, I’m sure we can do it. Good luck, Tav.” She pats his shoulder and he jumps.

The elf looks up from the trial tablet. “Oh. People are leaving? What’s happening?”

The undead woman gives him a smile as Koltira leaves, though it immediately disappears at Taveth’s lack of attention. “Would you rather I just do this whilst you sketch?” She looks at the three pillars, each accompanied by a different colored, glowing rune, then past them at the three gateways, each with a rune of unmatching colors.

Taveth’s eyelids lower in irritation for a split second before he turns to the mage. “The Triad.” He lifts his journal to read from what he’d just written. “Augari are we and this is our task. Our hands bear the answers if only you ask. Two together can open the way. Three at one time will keep you at bay.” He points with the end of his pen to the stone slab which holds a book carved from stone. “I translated it while you were ordering the others about.”

Anarchaia bristles, straightening. “_Actually_, your translation is hardly necessary.” She folds her arms. “The three runes here are primary colors. The others are secondary. Just grab the two that make up the lock’s color and I’m sure it’s bound to open.” She holds out her hands before the red statue, then the blue—the two runes swirl around her head. She taps her chin as she makes her way toward the purple rune. “A five-year-old could figure this out, I’m certain.”

Taveth purses his lips and waits until the mage returns from the building with the purple sigil. “Did you and Koltira have a fight? Is that why you’ve been so…short with everyone since we got here?” He combines yellow and red, taking the orange sigil in his palm.

Anarchaia blinks, then deflates and shrinks some with her arms folded neatly below her bust. “N-…no. I just—” She sighs and hesitates. “You wouldn’t understand.” She takes up yellow and blue sigil and makes for the green doorway. “I’m sorry.”

Taveth frowns and jogs after the mage once he’s secured the orange sigil’s item. “Try me. You’re my friend, Ana. Even if I don’t understand, I’d still like to help.”

Anarchaia bends to pull the item from the newly unlocked and final chest. She brings her lips in to chew on them, then gives Taveth a long, reserved stare when she stands again. “I…” She frowns. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Taveth nods emphatically. “Of course! What kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t keep a secret?”

The undead woman fidgets with her fingers and looks anywhere but at him. “I’ve… We’ve…been trying. For a child.” She rubs at her upper arm. “I figured if he and Ali…” She shakes her head and furrows her brow. “And every time I see that little girl—hear her name—I just… Rrgh!” The toe of her heeled boot collides with the recently unlocked chest and it jostles. Her fists clench. “It’s not fair.”

Taveth’s brow knits and he frowns. “Grim and Ali were alive when she had Dio— Sorry.” He shrugs and toes a small pebble. “I’m sorry. I wish you luck, but…” His eyes tear away from her as he resists saying the truth out loud, as though keeping it quiet will change anything.

Anarchaia finally looks over at him, already somewhat offended by what he could possibly say. “But…?”

Taveth’s frown deepens. “Everyone knows the undead can’t…reproduce. I know _you_ of all people must know it.”

Anarchaia’s fists clench and she straightens. “I know,” she simply hisses and turns, item tucked beneath her arm, to angrily stride away back toward the entrance to the amphitheater.

Taveth flinches and ducks his head. “Then why did you have me say it,” he mumbles under his breath as he slowly follows.

Anarchaia is silent for only a moment before spinning on him again. “And for your information, I wasn’t talking about Diori,” she growls in a low tone and turns back.

Taveth opens his mouth and takes a contemplative breath, then closes it and purses his lips. “Then who are you talking about?”

Anarchaia pauses, for a second wondering if she should retain the information as a sort of payback. Instead she looks over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “Don’t tell him, but it was hers and Kolt’s. Okay? After he died.” She scowls and purses her lips, biting back something else vile to say. “So yes, there _is_ a small glimmer of hope.” She turns back around.

Taveth stops. “How? That’s…not possible. At all. Is it?” He pads after her, a sudden curious excitement making him twitch anxiously. “What happened to it? How long did it survive? _Is it still alive?_” He claps his hand over his mouth as he realizes he’s nearly shouting.

Anarchaia hisses for him to be quiet as she again turns around. She gets closer. “No. And…” She frowns beneath her mask. “I-I don’t know if that’s for me to tell you.” She shakes her head. “Besides, I’m already sick of talking about it,” she snaps, jealousy again bubbling within her more than ever.

Taveth flinches again and steps away from the mage. “Oh. Okay.”


	40. Chapter 40

Gildwynn pads along near Kel’ori’s feet, finding that traveling as a quadruped allows him to keep up with the others’ long strides. They come upon a two-story building with a laser matrix blanketing the floor just inside. His brow knits. “Uh.”

An image of the Vigilant appears before the two and stops their entry. “This challenge is very simple. Enter, and proceed until you reach the other side of the structure. It is designed to kill you. Best of luck.” He disappears and the entry shimmers open.

Kel’ori groans. “Who decided this was a good idea? What if I’m too slow? What if one hits us? Will it cut us in half? Maybe we should wait for the others.”

Gildwynn fidgets in his place. “Why don’t you just let me handle this one, then, doll?” He steps forward, and with a grace expected of a lupine, leaps from safe zone to safe zone as the lasers strobe across the floor. He turns and smiles inwardly. “Eh? Piece of—” A high pitched yelp escapes him as a large orb of electricity engulfs him from behind. Jolted back to his natural form, he stirs on the floor, jewelry hot on his skin. “Ugh… Karma…”

Kel’ori jumps in shock as the yipe echoes back to her. She finds herself blinked forward past the deadly room. A laser cuts off a chunk from the hem of her dress and she yelps and hops forward. “Are you okay?” She kneels beside him and checks for any visible injuries on the goblin.

Gildwynn gives a small smile up at her and pushes his frazzled hair back. “I am now.”

Kel’ori blushes. “Right, you’re a shaman. Healed right up.” She smiles and holds out a hand to help him stand. “Guess we’re in it together, now. Cause I am _not_ going back the way we came.”

~ * ~

Eophen grins down at Koltira. “Your mate is very commandeering.” He chuckles as they approach the center of the amphitheater. “Though you seem like a man who appreciates that.”

The first visage of a draenei warrior stirs to life and readjusts his sword. “Ah. Challengers? Why, it feels like it’s been a millennia since.” He steps forward, weapon raised.

Koltira smirks at the draenei. “A soldier is meant to follow orders.” He regards the image and cracks his knuckles. “So, we’re just sparring with ghosts? Easy enough.”

Eophen swings the specter’s sword away with his hammer and nods without looking back. “I am sure Miss Sparkles will serve you no problem.” He glances over at an advancing draenei mage, her ghostly hands filled with arcane energy.

“Good luck defeating this!” she cries with a haughty grin and sends a barrage of purple projectiles at the death knight.

Koltira raises his large lavender shield over the two; the projectiles shatter against it. He drags her to him and swings wide to hit both specters with one arcing sweep. “No problems at all.”

The duo make short work of the contenders. The final one kneels before them, supported by his staff. “You have bested the trial of mastery. Please, go forth on your journey.”

Eophen glances over at Anarchaia and Taveth, then motions to the other direction with a strong chin. “They seem to have it under control. Perhaps we go help small green man and pretty, erratic elf?”

Koltira nods. “Yeah. I think they went that way.” He points up the hill to the building and begins heading that way.

Eophen follows the death knight until they reach the building. He glances inside just in time to see the goblin stand with Kel’ori’s help. “How are we doing in here?”

Gildwynn brushes himself off, then puffs his chest, the question filling him with determination. “We’re fine, actually.” He looks up at Kel’ori and smiles. “You even blinked right. Wanna try again?” He gestures over his shoulder, then shifts again to a wolf to weave past another ball of energy descending the stairs toward them.

Kel’ori waves to the two in the doorway. “We can handle it. I think.” She hops to the side to avoid an oncoming orb, then runs to the back of the room where they can’t reach her. She studies the orbs rolling down either side of the stairs. “There’s a pattern. When the one on the right reaches the bottom, start running up that staircase.” She absently sets her fingertips in the wolf’s fur and prepares to run. “Ready?”

The wolf’s ears swivel to listen to her instructions and he mindlessly leans into her hand as she talks. He nods. “You go first. If you get hurt, I can heal you. I’ll be right behind you.”

Koltira rests on a hip. “Well…either they make it or we’re three party members short, right?”

Eophen chuckles, then pauses and gives Koltira a sideways glance with golden eyes. “Three?”

The mage rushes up the stairs as a purple orb dissipates at the bottom. She yelps and stops as one flies past and onto a balcony before popping out of existence. She rushes out onto the balcony as a new orb spawns at the top of the stairs. “Out here, quick!”

The wolf scales the stairs four at a time. He shakes his hackles when he gets to the top and growls. “You two take the tenacity test,” he mocks in a high, nasally voice and looks up the last round of stairs. “Wanna just run for it?”

Kel’ori nods and braces herself to run, eyes fixed on the orbs as she figures out the pattern. “Count of three? One…two…”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at the draenei. “You haven’t figured it out by now? Kel’ori is with child. Or rather with monster, if you view it in a certain light. If anyone asks, I didn’t say that.” He steps out of the doorway and looks around. “Think they’ll come out back here, or…”

Eophen blinks, then gives another chuckle. “Is that what that is? I thought she was just overly fond of marsuul.” He nods. “You have my word. But…monster?” He gestures to a mezzanine high above them. “Appears to be the only exit.”

“Three!” Gildwynn leaps forward, pushing Kel’ori onto his back and bounding up the stairs. With too much forward momentum, he skids to a halt on the upper balcony, just before the edge. He gives a breathless chuckle. “Easy. Heh.”

Kel’ori giggles and hops from the wolf, then kneels to hug him. “Amazing! We really do make a great team, I guess.”

“Oh, you made it. Wonderful,” the Gatekeeper’s image drones from the edge of the balcony. “Fine. This trial is complete… Merely because I seem to have run out of space in which to test you.” He shimmers out of existence.

Koltira purses his lips. “It’s half demon.” He backs out of the entryway and motions for the lightforged to follow him around the side of the building, where an image of the vigilant stands on a broken platform. “Here, maybe?”

Eophen joins him below the balcony just in time to see the spectral wolf nearly fall from it. “Half demon, you say? She has peculiar interests.”

“Actually, she wasn’t interested. And it’s best not to mention it to her.” Koltira sets his teeth to his lower lip and lets out a shrill whistle. “When you’re done cuddling up there… I saw the other two headed back, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Eophen’s face falls and he shifts uncomfortably. “R-right.”

Kel’ori frowns and pats the wolf’s head one last time, then looks for a way down that isn’t such a high drop.

Heart pounding from the hug and the run, Gildwynn’s ears pull back at the shrill whistle. He motions back the way they’d come, the traps now seemingly inactive. “You could just put a slow fall spell on us, though, right?” He suddenly remembers all of her failed attempts at magic and clears his throat. “Eh, never mind.” He makes his way back downstairs. “How did you two do?”

Kel’ori follows the shaman and takes a moment to rest against the doorway, a hand over her stomach. Her nose wrinkles and she covers her face. “I’d almost forgotten about that smell. And it’s in my robes, now. This is the worst. I’m hungry.”

Koltira waits patiently for the mage to finish complaining, then shrugs. “It was something I’m good at—swinging a sword and beating things up. Easy. You two look mostly unscathed.” He eyes the burned edge of the mage’s dress.

Gildwynn sniffs the air again, then shrugs a furry shoulder.

Eophen gives them a small smile and gestures back to the amphitheater. “I am sure the other two have finished, yes?”

“Yep,” Koltira says simply, then leads the way.

Kel’ori falls into step behind the death knight, flashing a quick smile to the other two men as she passes. “Trials. Ha! When’s lunch?”

Eophen chuckles. “I am not hungry but… Perhaps smaller mage has means to help you.”

Kel’ori makes a face. “Her conjured food takes like… Like I want to vomit. I think I’ve still got…” She digs into her bag and frowns at the small amount of bacon left. “Better than nothing, I guess.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow behind him at the high elf. “I’m sure we can get you back to the ship for a bite.” His eyes involuntarily slide to her abdomen, which seems slightly rounder to him—she flops her cloak over herself and purses her lips at the death knight. Koltira rolls his eyes and directs a telling expression to the paladin.

The party rejoins at the amphitheater entrance and Vigilant Quoram sighs. “I’m as surprised as I am disappointed that you all still have your limbs. Though I could tectonically disqualify you for separating and taking on the challenges in duos…”

Anarchaia folds her arms. “That would be rather unfair. What would it matter if we all did it at once or split up?”

The mechanism groans in disgust. “I technically must tell you that the relic you seek is to the north of here. In a crumbling ruin.”

“Ruins. Got it. Let’s go,” Koltira says, almost impatiently.

Kel’ori whimpers, but follows, shoving bacon into her mouth.

The party reaches said ruins and stops, taken aback by an image of Archimonde standing in the center of what was once a grand room.

“Unsettling,” Taveth says as he begins sketching.

“To say the least.” Anarchaia mumbles and pokes the heel of her boot into the dirt a time or two.

A levitating stone sits within a pillar of light at the back of a small alcove. Eophen makes to grab it, but his hand merely passes through.

The image of Archimonde shakes his head. “To obtain the keystone you must first pass the test of will and perseverance.”

Several visages of draenei men and women fade into existence around the group, outnumbering them by a small few. The mages immediately begin casting as the paladins run forward with hammers raised.

Gildwynn, now on two feet, grabs an item from his bag and throws it to the dirt; it springs open to reveal a humming totem. Energy pulses from it, summoning roots that grab at the spirits’ ankles. It hinders the fighters, but the magi are undeterred.

As before with the panthara, Koltira runs to the center-most point and lifts Byfrost into the air. Purple tendrils snake out and pull all the unrooted images to him, where he drops decay beneath them. He grabs a casting straggler and pulls her to him. “Swing wide, Eophen. Let’s get these bastards as fast as possible.”

The farthest caster suddenly stops and stares ahead for a moment. He stomps forward, past the others and up to Taveth. “Hi, master! Want me to kill it?” he asks in a voice which echoes yet is hollow.

The elf cringes for the quickest second, then realizes what is happening and turns around to see Tryxora waving extatically at him. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, okay. Kill the ghost.”

The demoness gives a squeal of excitement and runs forward, knocking the image backward into the others with her whip. Once her target is dead, she looks over her shoulder, winks at Taveth, and gives her butt a little wiggle. “Bet you liked watching that!”

“Not really,” he drones.

Kel’ori cocks an eyebrow. “Why does she keep coming back? I thought you had to _summon_ your demons.”

“She’s just completely in love with him,” Anarchaia explains and blasts the knocked-over enemies with fire and ice; they dissipate back into the ether.

Eophen swings his hammer in a wide arc, knocking the ones that had been pulled forward back. They, too, are obliterated.

The oncoming enemies stand little chance against the party of six and are soon defeated. The draenei member of the crew again tries to take the large keystone and is delighted when he’s able to lift it. It hovers gently in his palm. He beams down at the others—Tryxora included. “Well done, yes?”

The demoness pushes herself to the draenei’s arm. <<And, uh, who might _you_ be?>>

“Tryx,” Taveth warns.

<<_I’m being friendly!_>> she shouts.

The elf deflates and shrugs it off, not in the mood to deal with the succubus.

<<Hey, what’s her problem?>> she asks, pointing at Kel’ori, whose wrist is at her nose again.

“She says it smells bad here.”

The mage perks. “Why are you talking about me?”

Tryxora sniffs. <<She’s kind of right. It’s like…sickly sweet flowers or something.>> The pink woman grins up at the draenei. <<Isn’t my master just so handsome? I’m surprised I don’t have to fight off tons of females that don’t understand he’s _mine_.>>

Eophen gives the demoness a nervous grin and clears his throat. He leans the object away from her as though she may take it, then clears his throat. <<My Eredun may be rusty, but, uhm…Eophen. My name is.>> He looks at Taveth. “She is yours?”

Gildwynn and Anarchaia look at one another at the mention of the smell. The mage shrugs. “Demons generally say I smell that way? Perhaps it’s the combination of both she and myself…?”

Taveth hangs his head and gives a faint nod. “Unfortunately, yes. I um, found a relic of your world and…the rest just happened.” He withdraws the spinal dagger and the skull shimmers into existence.

<<Oh, you’re out here, again,>> Thal’kiel says to Tryxora.

<<I am! Poker is boring with you and Spinewing…you don’t let me strip. Say! Do you smell something nasty besides these two mages?>>

Eophen takes a large step away from the succubus.

Taveth folds his arms and purses his lips. “Sorry, I guess they need to catch up.”

<<Quiet, you!>> the skull says. <<No. I only smell them. Why?>>

“My sister says she smells something sickening and sweet. It’s making her nauseous,” Taveth says.

Thal’kiel hums with interest. <<Fascinating.>> He flies over to the mage and sniffs. <<Old berries and…orchid,>> he says. <<Disgusting.>> He goes to Anarchaia. <<Even _worse!_ This one has always been bad. She smells like fermented apples and lilacs. Have you ever smelled anything more abhorrent? _Lilacs!_>>

Taveth purses his lips and blinks. “Kel, go smell Ana.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Kel’ori makes a face and goes to the other mage. “Sorry.” She sniffs at the girl’s shoulder. “Uhm, rotten-ish fruit and flowers? And her perfume, of course.”

Anarchaia hugs herself and raises her shoulders as she’s nasally scrutinized. She stares off into the distance as though disassociating with the current topic, brow furrowed and lips tight.

Thal’kiel laughs. <<Interesting. Is she still with child? Because that would explain it. Spinewing said she’d destroyed it. Such a waste.>>

Taveth’s cheeks darken with stress and shock. “Thank you, that’s enough.” He puts the dagger away. “He says you’re just…smelling yourself. Because of the…”

The mage cries out and drops onto a crumbling step. “How much longer am I going to be smelling myself like this?”

Gildwynn clears his throat. “U-uhm. I guess…until…?” He gives a nervous half-chuckle. “Y’know.”

The mage scowls and pulls her cloak self-consciously around herself. She pushes to her feet and walks past them all, her nose in the air. “I don’t need your judgement,” she mutters.

Taveth sighs at the demoness. “We’re going through light magic. You may want to leave.”

She pouts. <<I guess.>> She runs over to kiss him on the cheek, but he flails and pushes her away.

Koltira’s brow lowers as he pushes away from the pillar he’s leaning against. “Can we go, now that that’s settled?”

“Oh. Uh, I can just…” Anarchaia nods and lifts a hand and a swirling portal of light appears—an image of the main deck of the Vindicaar visible in its center.

The shaman gives her a grateful nod and pads through. He sighs on the other side and shifts back to his birth form. “Actually missing my shop,” he mutters and takes a seat on a step.

Eophen follows, eager to relieve himself of the discomfort. He smiles as Velen descends the stairs toward him.

“Ah, good,” the Prophet says. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned in one piece.” He smiles tiredly at the lightforged and takes the Sigil of Awakening from him. He brings it to the center of the room and it lifts itself into place. “You have my thanks, young Eophen. I’m sure your father will be proud.”

Eophen shifts uncomfortably. “I…yes.” He chuckles and bows his head. “Thank you, prophet.”

Kel’ori doubles back and uses the portal, keeping her head down as though Anarchaia’s watchful eyes were on her. She rushes to the mess hall, her gaze on the floor under her feet, and finds a seat to enjoy the variety of meats on her tray.

Taveth gives the lightforged a smile. He waits until Velen becomes busy with other matters, then approaches. “I’m not sure if the others wanted to go to Dalaran, but…if we do, would you, I mean, if you want to, um…” He grabs the strap of his bag and looks away. “Y-you can join us…if you like.”

Eophen blinks down at him, then lowers his hammer to rest on the floor. He glances between all of the elf’s changes in body language. He sets a hand on Taveth’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “I would love to visit your world.”

Taveth grins and straightens, looking up at the man. “My family owns a tavern—you don’t have to drink, of course—but we serve food, as well. My sister, not Kel’ori, makes the best peanut chicken you’ve ever had—not that you’ve ever had any. That is, if you’d like to go to Stormwind. Am I rambling? I’m rambling.” He clamps his lips together but smiles all the same.

Koltira takes Anarchaia by the hand and drags her through the portal. He sighs and takes in all of their companions. “I hope they don’t mind a very short rest,” he says low to her. “I’m rather sick of this entire planet and would rather not linger longer than necessary. How about you?”

Anarchaia sighs and hugs herself again before nodding. “I’m…surprisingly tired.” She places a hand on her forehead, then offers him a small smile. “I’d like to go rest somewhere. Preferably back on Azeroth. Heh.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan.” He eyes the others in the main room. “We’re headed back to Azeroth, but don’t feel obligated to join us.” He hooks an arm around Anarchaia’s waist and leads her down the stairs.

Eophen watches the elf flounder with light amusement. He chuckles. “Anything you suggest I am interested in. You can be my guide.” He looks over his shoulder at the goblin. “Are you accompanying us?”

Gildwynn perks, then glances the way Kel’ori had gone. “Uh…yeah. Let me go get her.” He makes his way back to the mess hall. “Hey, girlie. They’re going back to Dal. You ready?”

Kel’ori smiles at the goblin. “Sorry for my outburst earlier. You really want me to go with you?”

Gildwynn smiles at her and nods. “I think I’d—we’d feel bad leaving you behind.” He watches her practically inhale her bacon. “Unless you’d miss whatever that is too much.”

The mage shrugs. “I suppose I can go.” She wipes her mouth and leaves her tray to walk with the shaman and meet the others.

Taveth leads Eophen to the portal and stops to wait for the other two. “Do you need to…tell anyone you’re leaving?”

Eophen fidgets, then shrugs an apprehensive shoulder. “Cannot possibly disappoint him more.” He gives a small, uncomfortable chuckle.

Taveth smiles at the others and takes the lead, waiting for them on the other side of the portal. “We can stay here or visit Stormwind. Whichever you’ve a mind to do.”

Kel’ori frowns. “I’d rather not see dad right now.”

Gildwynn lowers his ears at the mention of the Alliance city and gives a small shrug. “I’m actually just gonna pop on by the shop. Make sure it isn’t _completely_ destroyed, y’know?” He gives a small wave as he heads in that direction. “Call on me again if you need me!”

Eophen does not see him go, his golden eyes scanning the tall spires and buildings. He snaps out of his wonder and gives an embarrassed smile. “I am fine with whatever. Heh. Or perhaps a small tour of this city? It is very…what is the word? Purple.”

Taveth nods at the draenei. “Yes! Of course! Let me show you around. Kel, care to join?”

She shrugs. “Shoulda just…stayed behind,” she mumbles under her breath.

Eophen pats Kel’ori on the shoulder. “Perhaps you could join him?” He smiles. “From the sounds of it, he may need assistance.”

The mage fidgets for a moment, then heads off into the city alone, cloak wrapped protectively around herself.

He turns back to Taveth. “So, where is your favorite place here?”

Taveth thinks on it. “Since I’m not allowed in the secret library here, I usually find myself in the Legerdemain Lounge with my friends. The tavern, of course, feels like a home away from home with Ervaen there. Sadly, I haven’t actually gotten to have much leisure time in the city.”


	41. Chapter 41

Once back into the streets of her home, Anarchaia smiles up at the darkening blue skies. “Better,” she sighs. She thinks for a moment. “Maybe we should check on him. …And her.”

Koltira nods. “We should, yes.” He leads her by the waist to the Legerdemain Lounge, where the innkeeper scowls at the two.

“She’s not stopped screaming for days,” Arille says. “I had to put a charm on the room.”

He nods and purses his lips. “Sorry about that.”

Anarchaia cringes and nods. “But she _is_ still in the room, yes?”

Arille blinks at her slowly, then shrugs.

The mage hisses a quiet obscenity at the elf then turns to hurry up the stairs. Once at the correct door she hesitates while debating whether or not to release the charm. She knocks instead.

Koltira takes a deep breath. “Here’s hoping…”

No reply comes from within, so the death knight unlocks the door and twists the knob. After a minute, the white hair of Alisbeth pops up on the other side of the bed, followed by the rest of her. Her face and bare upper torso are covered in bloody scratches. She stares at them for a minute longer, then starts shrieking again. On reflex, Koltira yanks the door closed, slamming it before she can get out.

Anarchaia quickly replaces the charm on the door and the screams are cut silent. She gives a half chuckle, half sigh. “Well. She’s alive. And here.” She grits her teeth at the thought of the claw marks and turns to the door next to Alisbeth’s. She steps inside where it is as eerily silent as it was the last time they’d been there. She swallows as she looks over the motionless form beneath the sheets. “He’s…not decaying. Heh. That’s—… That’s good. Right?”

Koltira leans against the wall and folds his arms. “Sure, I guess? I…I don’t know, Ana. It’s been a month…”

Anarchaia sits on the bedside and purses her lips against the tears. She shakes her head. “N-no. I won’t give up on him.” She sniffles and presses the back of a wrist to her nose. “I-I mean he’s not getting any worse. He’s not rotting. He—… He has to come back.”

Koltira clenches his jaw at the dried meat rashers and water left untouched on the nightstand since he’d put them there in some distant hope the man would wake while they were gone. “I’m not so sure anymore.” A pang of guilt hits him and he lets himself out of the room to lean against the wall beside the door.

Anarchaia runs her tongue over her dry lips and sighs. She stands, adjusts the coverings over Grimory’s body, and sets a hand on the flagon to chill the water inside. “Please wake up soon,” she mutters and joins Koltira in the hallway. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly up to him.

Koltira purses his lips at the mage. “What if I made it worse? What if I’m the reason he might never come back?”

Anarchaia blinks, completely taken aback. “W-wha…? No! Koltira, why would you think that?”

“I had to kill him _again_, Ana. Who knows what that did?” He runs frustrated palms down his face. “I do hope he comes back…but I’m not holding my breath. No pun intended.” He quirks his mouth into a small, half-hearted smirk.

Anarchaia scowls and sighs, taking him by the hands. “Look, I—… I know you wouldn’t have done…what you did…if you’d known what would have happened. A-and I know you had the best intentions. Besides, I don’t think he’ll even remember.” She looks back into the room and frowns. “And _I’m_ not going to give up…”

Koltira shrugs. “Since my liver is already dead, would you care to get drunk with me? Who knows, maybe Thass is at the Nightheart’s and he can distract us with his idiocy. If not, drunk with you is still more than good enough.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just wraps his arm around her shoulders and steers her away.

“Yeah. I…think I’d like that.” Anarchaia allows him to lead her all the way to the Nighthearts’ tavern.

In the darkness of the room where the demon hunter’s corpse lies undisturbed, a thump echoes and the wall shudders. A picture of a flower falls from its nail, and ripples cascade across the surface of the water in the pitcher.

As expected, the pair see a familiar head of silver hair at the bar, chatting up Ervaen behind the counter.

The elf grins tiredly as they approach. “Back, are you? How goes the excursion?”

“Uh…it goes.” Anarchaia chuckles sadly.

Koltira drops down beside Thassarian and punches him in the arm. “How’s your mistress?”

Thassarian punches him back. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Ana, he’s losing it. You may want to do something about that.”

Anarchaia gives Thassarian a small smile and smooths her palm over Koltira’s forehead and bangs. “He’s the perfect amount of crazy for me.” She picks up her glass of wine as it’s set before her and takes her seat on the elf’s other side. “Zero.”

Ervaen chuckles quietly and glances at the new death knight, still polishing a rocks glass. “Let me guess. Scotch? Oldest we have?”

Koltira nods. “That or anything strong and bitter, like my friend here.” He pats Thassarian hard enough that some of the human’s drink sloshes out.

“Careful, before I knock you off your stool, Deathweaver.”

“You never did respond about Juliember,” Koltira says.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Thassarian grunts.

“Ana and I don’t believe you.”

Anarchaia snerks, then purses her lips dramatically before giving a clearly disapproving shake of her head. “No shame in it, Thass. Come, now. What’s the worst that could come from telling us? Your kind, loving, trusted friends?”

Ervaen sets Koltira’s drink before him. “Thassarian special it is,” he says with a hint of humor in his voice.

The human casts the mage an unimpressed look. “Don’t make me kick you out of my tavern,” he threatens.

Koltira scoffs. “I used to be part of that family, remember? I think it’s more my tavern than yours.” He casts a sly smirk at Ervaen. “Fine, keep your secrets. Though, you’re not very good at it.” He wraps an arm around the mage. “Give us another topic to distract us, or we’ll keep bothering you about your special troll.”

“It’s technically my tavern,” Ervaen mutters under his breath.

He casts a sly smirk at Ervaen, then back at his friend. “Fine, keep your secrets. Though, you’re not very good at it.” He wraps an arm around the mage. “Give us another topic to distract us, or we’ll keep bothering you about your special troll.”

Anarchaia rolls her eyes. “How has your creepy ziggurat been? Cold and uninviting as I recall?”

Thassarian nods in agreement with Ervaen. “His tavern. I’m here all the time. I’d say we’re friends? No? Whatever. Shut up, you two.” He takes a drink, then pauses as though just realizing the subject had been changed. “Acherus is…Acherus. Yes. Deathlord has a dragon, now, though. That’s an exciting addition to the rooftop.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “I get sent across the universe to near certain death and the Deathlord gets to ride dragons… Did I draw the short stick?”

Anarchaia snerks again. “I beg to differ,” she mumbles and buries her nose in her cup. She clears her throat. “So, you’ve really been up to nothing in the past month or so?”

Ervaen refills her cup though she hadn’t asked. “Besides keeping that seat warm? Er…cold?”

Thassarian shrugs. “I go where the Deathlord commands. Mostly keeping the infestation on the Broken Shore at bay. When I’m not there, I’m drinking, because honestly why not? Nothing better to do.”

“Except a certain druid,” Koltira says on a snerk.

Thassarian bats him so hard he tips onto Anarchaia. “I said stop it.”

Koltira catches himself, his arms wrapped around the mage to keep her from falling. He straightens and sits back in his seat. “You really going to stand for that sort of behavior in your fine establishment, Nightheart?”

“Only if it’s you,” Ervaen says with a smirk and rests his elbow on the bar.

Anarchaia happily wraps her arms around him to keep him upright. She chuckles. “Hey, no hitting on my boyfriend.”

“How is Argus?”

The mage sighs. “Depressing. Not fun. So much destruction.” She takes a long drink of wine as though to emphasize her point.

Koltira makes a face. “Argus is honestly the worst. The wildlife is reclaiming the land and demons roam free. Everything wants to kill you. And of course listening to Kel complain about literally everything doesn’t help.”

Ervaen blows a puff of air through his nostrils indicative of a laugh. “You guys chose to have her tag along.”

Anarchaia sneers but only slightly. “Actually, we didn’t. Master and Archmage Kalec demanded I bring her along.”

He lifts his eyebrows, then gives another small laugh. “Then I feel for you.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Koltira mutters.

Anarchaia clears her throat. “Hey, Thass. How about a game of Never Have I Ever? Ooh! I’ll go first! Never have I ever slept with a troll.” She grins deviously past Koltira at him.

Thassarian scowls at the drink he’s in the middle of taking. “That didn’t count. And I’m not playing.”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Stick in the mud. So sensitive.”

Anarchaia chuckles. “Yes, it does. And yes, you are. I’ll even go again. Never have I ever…kissed a woman.” She points at Ervaen. “You’re playing, too.”

The elf blinks slowly, then pours himself a pint of his weakest ale before taking a sip.

Koltira and Thassarian both drink, the latter a little more reluctantly.

“Never have I ever irritated a friend for the sake of irritating him,” Thassarian says.

Koltira punches the man’s shoulder. “Nonsense. You do it all the time. Never have I ever lied about fucking a troll.”

Anarchaia takes a drink at the first prompt, then quickly lowers her cup at the second to stifle a chuckle. “That sounded a little racist.”

“Never have I ever tried to get someone to tell me something through the use of a passive aggressive drinking game,” Ervaen drones.

Koltira and Thassarian both blink, neither drinking.

The elf laughs. “Ana, he’s onto you.”

Anarchaia bristles as Ervaen moves to assist another patron, then scowls and forcibly lifts Koltira’s hand to bring his drink to his lips. “You did it last time, you big liar,” she hisses with a smirk.

“Evening, Jorick. Bourbon?”

The mage stiffens at the exchange happening behind her, a few seats down the bar.

“The most beautiful word in the Common language,” a smooth, aged voice like bourbon itself responds. “Would name my child after it had I had one,” the man chuckles. “Thanks, Erv.”

Anarchaia looks over her shoulder, then quickly looks back and hunches over as though she may be recognized through her mask. “U-uhm. Maybe we should find a different tavern?”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at the mage. “Are you…trying to hide?’

Anarchaia gives a nervous chortle and lowers her voice. “U-uh? Hiding? Me? Never. Heh,” she blurts, her instincts automatically telling her that it’s not a conversation she wants to have.

Koltira’s eyes narrow. “Ana, I swear to gods…”

Anarchaia purses her lips. <<Okay, fine. I knew him, all right? Before…everything. He was my best friend since I was six. If he hears me, he’ll recognize my voice and probably talk to us.>>

“Oh, I’ve seen him before,” Thassarian says. “Hey, Jorick! C’mere a minute!”

“Oh, yes, this should be fun,” Koltira says.

Anarchaia’s mouth falls open and she makes a show of presenting Thassarian her middle finger. She quickly throws it into her lap when the man approaches, however, and keeps her face turned away as he walks behind her to clap Thassarian on the shoulder.

“Thassarian. The only poor bastard here more than myself these days. Who are your friends?” He casually sips his drink with a demeanor that says he has all the time in the world.

Thassarian pats Koltira on the shoulder. “This here is my brother in death, Koltira Deathweaver. That there is his little friend. What did you say your name was, _dear_?” He leans around to grin slyly at her.

Anarchaia turns quickly and scowls at Thassarian. “My name is _Fuckyou_.”

Jorick tilts his head—topped with feathery, jet black hair—at the sound of her voice, then laughs outright. “Hoo! What a coincidence! That’s my ex’s name.” He chuckles and takes a large gulp of his drink. “A pleasure, Mr. Deathweaver, Ms. Fuckyou.”

Anarchaia groans apprehensively. “I-it’s…Alisbeth.”

Koltira stiffens and subconsciously moves the smallest bit away. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Thassarian blinks, his brow lowering just the littlest bit at the mage. “We were just talking about people from our pasts—”

“Were we?” Koltira asks.

The human grunts. “_Yes_. We were. Being undead and all, we have a lot of lost friends. What about you? Got anyone you miss?”

<<Is there a point to this?>> Koltira asks in careful Thalassian he thinks the other death knight will understand.

Thassarian grins like a devil. <<Paycheck, my wagon.>>

Koltira blinks. “Practice. A lot.”

Jorick furrows his brow slightly at the exchange in front of him, but his grin remains—until his past is brought up, that is. He scratches at the coarse hair on his cheek. “Hm. Haven’t seen my brother in a good couple years. But I’m sure he’s fine.” He downs the rest of his glass. “Other than that…”

Anarchaia holds her breath.

“There was this girl I grew up with. Disappeared off the face of Azeroth along with her parents. We were close.” He shrugs and smiles again. “That was over twenty years ago, however. But who’s counting?” He laughs and pats Koltira on the shoulder despite knowing his discomfort. “How about you three?”

Koltira purses his lips. “Everyone important from my past is dead. Your girl sounds like a memorable person.” He turns his gaze directly onto the mage. “Wouldn’t you agree…_Alisbeth_?”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes at him. “Yeah. Uh huh.”

Thassarian raises his eyebrows as he realizes the other human is, indeed, speaking of the mage. “I already reconnected with my sister,” he says. “It’s difficult, sometimes. What would you do if you reconnected with that girl, hmm?”

Jorick thinks for a moment as his drink is refilled. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably nothin’ if I’m not kidding myself. She was pretty. No doubt has a husband and a few kids by now.” He lifts his glass to Ervaen. “Wouldn’t want nothing from an old asshole like me.”

The mage frowns and fidgets with her fingers in her lap.

Koltira smiles. “Oh, yes. It’s the beautiful ones you have to look out for. Then again, she could be single and off hiding somewhere… Using someone else’s name to avoid something from her past. That would be strange, though. Right _Alisbeth?_” Koltira looks pointedly at the mage, his mild annoyance apparent. <<Couldn’t think of any other name. Had to be hers?>> he asks in Gutterspeak.

<<It was the only one I could think of on the spot!>> she hisses in response, then clears her throat. <<Why does it bother you so much anyway? What are you trying to accomplish by outing me?>>

Thassarian wrinkles his nose at the two, then chuckles. “Single life isn’t so bad, though, right Ervaen? No one to call you stupid or worry when you’re kept late.” He seems to drift off for a moment, then finishes his drink. “What brings you to the Broken Isles? My home traveled here with Dalaran, so I didn’t really have a choice.”

Jorick scratches at his neck. “Business, I guess. Of the unfinished sort.” He looks over at the two. “Yeah, that sounds like something she’d do. Especially if it meant avoiding me. What about you two?”

The mage sighs. “I’m a student here.”

<<I just don’t understand why you can’t tell your friend it’s you. Did he wrong you? Did you wrong him?>> Koltira says.

Thassarian narrows an eye. “Ignore them. They’re always like that. As I said, my home was brought here and I had no choice, neither did Koltira. We serve the Deathlord in any capacity they deem necessary.”

<<Because we dated! Okay? We were close! And if he sees me like I am—if he finds out that I—…all those memories for him will be ruined,>> she says in a hushed yell, then places her head in her hands.

Koltira’s ears pull back. <<Oh.>> His jaw tenses with things he doesn’t want to say out loud.

Jorick shakes his head at the man before him as he’s blown off by the other two. “You like living that way? Wouldn’t you rather be your own man? Maybe have a house? A woman?”

Thassarian shrugs. “We’re death knights. We follow orders. When we don’t have orders, we’re free to do other things. Like drink. It’s almost impossible to find a woman willing to settle in with a death knight. Though, this idiot has no problems with that. First Alisbeth, now Annnnn…” He coughs into his glass.

Koltira’s eyelids lower. <<Good one,>> he says to the human in Thalassian.

Anarchaia’s fingers tense around her glass and she gives Thassarian a hidden glare.

Jorick blinks again at the two, scarred eyebrow raised. “All right,” he says with a helpless shrug and humble smile. “I can tell suspicious behavior when I see it. Comes with the job.” He sets an elbow on the bar to look past Thassarian at the other two. “And I know a few words of Gutterspeak.” His deep green eyes settle on Anarchaia. “We’ve met? _Annnnn?_”

The mage frowns, brow furrowed, then looks into her wine. “Y-yeah.”

He smirks and lowers his voice to a more familiar tone. “How’ve you been, Ana? You think I wouldn’t recognize your voice?”

She sighs. “I’m sorry, I just…” She shakes her head. “Things happened. I couldn’t contact you.”

He chuckles. “Over twenty years and the first thing you say to me is an apology. Why am I not surprised?”

Koltira’s eyelids lower and he leans to stay out of the way. Thassarian laughs and mutters something about the awkwardness, but otherwise stays out of the conversation.

The man notices the shift in atmosphere and gives a quiet, also uneasy chuckle. “Well it’s good to see you in one piece. I’d…best get.” He drains his cup, sets it down with gold, then offers a smile to Koltira as he straightens again. “Pleasure meeting you. Take good care of her.” He grins at the scowl he receives from the mage. “What? Someone’s certainly got to. Gods know you can’t.” He laughs and pats Thassarian on the shoulder one last time before turning for the exit.

Anarchaia glares at the two men beside her.

Thassarian growls. “You made him leave!”

Koltira’s lips tighten at the corners. “What?” he demands of Anarchaia.

Anarchaia gives an exasperated _ugh!_ then points at them. “You made me hurt his feelings! Now he knows I was avoiding him! If you’d just left well enough alone,” she hisses. “Jorick! Jorick wait!” She rushes out the door to catch him just down the cobblestone path a ways. “I’m sorry! Really. I-I didn’t mean—”

“Woah, calm down there, little bird.” He smiles and raises his hands. “I’m not offended. I’d have done the same thing.”

She pauses, taken aback. “You would…?”

He chuckles. “Of course. Just look at me. Ain’t the rugged scamp I was, eh?”

“That isn’t…” She chews on the inside of her cheek, then sighs. “Please. Come have a drink with us? Er…another one.”

The dark-haired man places a curled finger on his chin and hums, then shrugs. “Fine, but only for a bit. I do actually have things to do in the morning.” He allows her to drag him back and falls into the seat adjacent to Thassarian, on the other side of the corner of the bar. “Heh. Pleasure meeting you again?”

Anarchaia retakes her seat and lifts a hand to raise her mask, but stops and sets it in her lap instead.


	42. Chapter 42

Eophen casts a sad smile after Kel’ori, then nods down to Taveth as he follows the scholar. “Those two seem…close?”

Taveth shrugs. “I’m actually not sure how they know each other. Knowing my sister it was probably something indecent.” The tips of his ears warm. “I think that’s all behind her, now, though.”

Eophen lifts his pearly blond eyebrows. “Is it his?” he blurts as he inspects the interior of the Legerdemain Lounge.

Taveth flinches and leads Eophen away. “No, no…unfortunately. I mean, not to say that would be a good thing, either, but just…better than the— Are you hungry at all?” He wipes his palms on his trousers, suddenly nervous in the knowledge that he and the draenei have so much time alone together.

The lightforged hums in a second of thought then nods. “Yes. I could eat.” He takes note of Taveth’s discomfort and becomes slightly uncomfortable himself. “That is…if you also could. Eat. I mean.”

“Perhaps if we’re still here in the evening I can get you a better tour from someone who actually knows the city. My brother is a guard, so maybe he could. Heh. For now, we can eat. My treat. Heh, that rhymed.” He nervously leads the draenei to his family’s tavern.

Eophen chuckles. “I would enjoy that. Where do you recommend? What do people around here generally eat? What do you use for currency?” He digs in the pouch at his hip and produces a handful of prismatic crystal chips. “This? I can help pay.”

Taveth laughs and sets a palm over the crystals. “We pay with precious metals. Besides, you’re the guest, it’s only polite that I pay. As for what to eat, there’s quite a bit of variety. Pandaren cuisine is a personal favorite, but…we don’t typically eat what the Pandaren chef cooks here… You wanted to stay in Dalaran, so, there’s a charming outdoor café my sister—I mean cousin—enjoys?”

Eophen flushes some and places the bits back into his pouch. “Panda…ren?” He perks at the word _café_ and nods. “That I would like.” He follows the elf to the small café and sets himself in a chair across from him. “So, uh…” He looks at a menu as it’s handed to him by a waiter. “I…know some of these things?” He blinks. “I think?”

Taveth laughs and looks at his own menu. “Ask me what anything is. I promise I won’t lie.” He glances across the table and his ears warm some before he lifts his menu higher to hide himself from view.

Eophen chuckles and looks over the menu. He points at the word ’macaroon’. “This?” He says, holding the menu high enough for Taveth to see from his hiding place.

“That’s a type of cookie. Kel used to love them.” The elf smiles over the menu. “You might try chicken. I didn’t see any fowl on Argus, so that might interest you.”

“Chicken,” Eophen repeats, then smiles up at the waiter when he returns. “My friend here recommends the chicken. I will have that.”

The waiter grins at the man’s accent and nods. “Yes, it’s one of my favorites. Did you want the mushroom cream sauce or the orange reduction?”

The draenei casts desperate eyes back to the high elf across from him. “Uhh…”

Taveth smiles and leans forward. “Fungus or citrus. I personally like orange, it’s very light.”

The draenei’s ears perk at the word _fungus_ and he grins at the waiter.

“Mushroom…?”

Eophen nods. “Please.”

He turns to Taveth. “Anything for you, good man?”

“Orange for me, with some greens on the side. And um, moonberry juice.” He fidgets once the menu is out of the way and he’s left with nothing to fiddle with or hide behind. “So, erm…what do you think of Azeroth so far? Heh. Our sky isn’t typically green, I assure you.”

Eophen orders the same drink, then blinks over at Taveth. “What color is it normally?” he asks, eyes bright with genuine interest.

“Everywhere else, it’s blue. The Legion’s presence has stained it. You never saw your home before the destruction, did you?” Taveth says.

Eophen shakes his head. “No. I was very young. Too young.” He shrugs. “It is a miracle my father, sister, and I made it off at all.” A smile catches in his lips. “But that is neither here nor there. Please, tell me about your family.”

Taveth shrugs. “There’s really not much to say. It’s a large family. My younger sister is actually my cousin. Our father raised us alone since I was born.” He rubs a fingertip along the tabletop. “What about yours? What’s your sister like?”

Eophen nods in understanding. “Oh, uh, Uulora. She is…fun. Likes to play pranks. Very hard working. Has a bit of a temper though. I am sure she gets it from father. She was very young when mother passed, after all.” He smiles at the waiter when his food is placed before him. He sniffs a bite before taking it. His blond eyebrows lift. “Oh. This is tasty. What is a chicken?”

“It’s a type of bird,” Taveth says, sampling his own meal. He chews slowly, instead watching the expression on Eophen’s face. “I’m glad you like it.”

Eophen catches the elf’s eye and quickly looks away. “So. Your sister and your cousin? Were your parents…?” He sips at the juice, then decides it’s good enough for him and takes a proper drink.

“No! No no.” Taveth laughs uncomfortably. “We adopted her. I only found out recently that she’s my cousin’s daughter. I still think of her as my little sister, though. Otherwise I’m the youngest of seven. Did your mother not make it off the planet? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eophen nods but does not show any signs of being uncomfortable. “It is true. But that was long ago. We have healed as she would have liked us to.” He smiles through another bite. “What is your family like? Other than the strange matter with your sister-cousin?”

“Large. Mostly chaotic. My eldest brother manages the tavern here in Dalaran. The one below him is a guard. Kel, of course, is a mage apprentice. One sister is a barber, the last works at the tavern in Stormwind, and the brother right above me is also studying to be a mage, while working at the tavern. I’m the only scholar, obviously.” He picks at his food, his nerves dampening his appetite.

Eophen whistles. “That is quite a few. How do you keep track which you are?” He chuckles. “I kid, of course. How are _your_ parents?” He finishes his chicken—a small portion in comparison to his size—and sets his elbows on the table, his waning energy apparent in his eyes.

Taveth gives a genuine laugh. “We wear colored ribbons, of course.” He chuckles another second, then shrugs. “I never knew my mother and the father I’ve always known has been harsher since her loss. He’d rather keep all of us at home, working the taverns. Safe. Heh. What do you and your family plan on doing when—if we’re successful on Argus?”

Eophen ponders on it for a moment before shrugging and taking another drink. “Perhaps I can convince them to move here.” He smiles. “Though it should not take too much convincing. This place is much nicer than…well, anything they have been used to.” He chuckles. “Or perhaps this Stormwind? What is it like?”

“It’s very beautiful. Very busy. I hope you can see it one day. I, uh, hope you do end up staying. Tell me, what’s it like living on a ship your whole life?” Taveth shoves around what’s left of his meal, then takes a sip of his drink.

Eophen thinks over his response. “Bland.” His smile grows somber. His eyes watch Taveth’s fork move around the plate. “Are you feeling unwell? We can, perhaps cut the tour short?”

The elf jumps to attention. “No, I’m fine. Really. Please don’t go. I-I mean, heh… Just not as hungry as I’d thought. Did you want anything else, perhaps?”

The draenei shakes his head. “I am fine for the moment.” He looks up, past the parasol, torward the stars. “It looks more like home, now.” He chuckles.

The waiter from earlier regards them with a sympathetic smile as he takes the empty cup and single empty plate. “I’m afraid we’re closing up shop for the night, gentlemen. You may stay seated here, but we’d prefer to have our dishware.”

Taveth frowns and pushes his plate to the waiter. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late. My apologies.” He sets the gold in a neat stack beside the plate, deciding to forego asking if they’d honor his king’s token. “Would you still like that tour?” He fixes his gaze on the draenei, his small smile not betraying his desire to remain in the man’s company for longer.

Eophen at first gives a half nod, then cannot help yawning, the weight of a long time without sleep wearing on him. “Eh. Perhaps in the morning? I…have not slept in a couple days.” He gives a sympathetic smile. “If that is okay.”

“O-of course! Let’s get you a room, then?” He smiles nervously and leads the man to Greyfang Enclave. “I hope you don’t mind. I uhm, well, my benefactor, rather, has an arrangement with this inn. I can get you a room, if you’d like.” He shifts and smiles, trying to smooth everything over.

Eophen nods, smile unwavering. “Yes, I would like that. Thank you.” He follows, hammer still on his shoulder. When they reach the inn and a room is arranged for him, he inspects the quaint area—his frame taking up a good amount of space between the floor and ceiling. He sets his weapon against the wall and turns to smile down at the elf. “It is cozy. And warm. Already better than my metal room.” His face softens. “Thank you, Taveth.”

Taveth smiles shyly up at him. “Of course. Good night, Eophen.” He fidgets for a moment before holding out his hand.

Eophen blinks down at the elf’s fingers, then smiles and takes it. He brings Taveth’s knuckles to his lips, then smiles and releases him. “Good night, Taveth.” Before the other can respond, he gently closes the door.

Taveth blushes and goes back to his own room, shutting himself inside for the rest of the night.

~ * ~

In the darkness of the second story room, two emerald glows slowly fade to life, flickering. The demon hunter sits up slowly as though thawing after a long winter. He brings a hand up to run through his dry, straw-like hair, then breaks down into a fit of coughing, his lungs regaining strength.

Grimory perks at the water beside his bed and hastily takes it up and downs the still chilled contents. He rips it away from his lips to give another raspy cough. His stiff, cold feet find their way to the floor and he finishes the water before replacing the flagon. He tries to stand but finds his muscles will not comply. He instead leans back to lie again, a palm on his throbbing head as it stares hazily into the silence.

A knock sounds from inside the armoire. After a moment, the knocking sounds again. And again. It continues urgently.

Grimory perks at the noise. He sits up and physically hits at one of his legs until he can feel it again. He pushes himself shakily to his feet. He steadies himself on the nightstand, then quickly pushes himself to the vanity beside it. He pauses, however, when his reflection catches his eye. His eyes are sunken and dark, his hair a dry mess, and a thread holds his throat together.

“My hair!” he makes to say, but the words don’t come out, just the breath that would accompany them. ::My throat!:: He grabs at his neck, then notices the massive, gnarly scars coming up and around his chest. ::My body!:: He frantically runs his hand over the smooth, hard tissue and frowns. The knocking continues again and he grits his teeth as he pushes himself to stand without aid. When he finally makes it to the armoire, he opens it.

A small hole has been burrowed into the back, from it stretches the blue arm of Alisbeth, her fist knocking in the empty air. When the knocking sound ends, she pauses and swishes her arm around, then slaps against the board. “It hears another in the room, we will find it very soon!” She pulls out her arm, then her frosty blue eyes pop into the small opening between rooms. She stops and blinks at him as though trying to process the sight. After a moment her eyes go wide. “Hi Grim! Where are you? Where am I? Where are my clothes?” She disappears and pounds on the door, then returns. “I can’t get out. Oh, look, a hole!” She reaches her arm through again to grab at his hand.

Grimory pushes Alisbeth’s hand back through to look at her through the hole. He holds up a finger, then exits the room to go to the bar downstairs.

The color in Arille’s face drains and he drops the glass he’s polishing. “S-Silver…song?”

The demon hunter nods, then points toward the array of room keys behind the other elf.

“You…need a spare?”

Grimory shakes his head and points to the key that coincides with room next to his.

Arille nods and, still pale, hands over the key. “I, uh…hope she’s all right up there.”

The Illidari gives a curt nod and returns upstairs to unlock Alisbeth’s door. He steps inside, then pauses at the disaster before him.

Alisbeth leaps onto the demon hunter, giggling as they topple to the floor. “Weren’t we on Argus just a minute ago? Hey, what happened here?” She picks at the stitching along his neck.

Grimory flinches at the sensation of the thread being pulled, then shakes his head. He tries to explain that he doesn’t remember much beyond traveling from Destiny Point, but nothing comes from his mouth. He sighs, then hugs her to him there on the floor.

Alisbeth smiles and melts into his embrace. “Why do I feel like I missed you for a long time?” She sighs and stands, helping him up. “Let’s get you back to bed. You look like you haven’t slept in ages!” She helps him back to the room and tucks him in, crawling in beside him. “Why aren’t you talking? Will you please say something?”

Grimory lets her pull him along with no capable argument. He sighs up at the ceiling, then sits up to turn toward her. He points to his throat, mouths a few words and shrugs.

Alisbeth frowns. “I don’t understand what happened. Do you wanna stay here, or should we find someone who can explain it?” She curls closer as apprehension nags at her mind.

Grimory points at his throat and mouths, ::Healer. To get this thread out. It’s gross and ugly.:: He looks down at her. ::But you have to get dressed.::

Alisbeth leaps from the bed and pulls on the first clothes she finds—pink pants and an obnoxious green shirt—not bothering to wash away the dried blood covering her face and body. “I’m ready! Let’s go.” As she pulls him up off the bed, she sets a small peck on his lips. “I feel like you needed that. And me. I did.”

Grimory follows her to the infirmary where the draenei woman who is normally there rushes to meet them. “Grimory!” she says, startled. “What happened to you?!”

She fusses at the stitches in his neck and he flinches and leans away. He wiggles his fingers and points to his throat inquisitively.

Alisbeth slaps at the healer’s hands. “Don’t hurt him! Just make him better.”

The draenei woman blinks, then gives an airy laugh as her hands glow golden. “Now, now. Let us not get violent.” She brings up a hand to grab the thread, then pulls at it while simultaneously healing the wound. A scar, however, is left behind.

Grimory hisses and grimaces, then steps back again when she’s finished.

“Never can stay out of harm’s way, can you?” the healer says, patting him on the shoulder. “Should heal fully in a couple days. No straining it until then, okay?”

He nods and hands her a few gold pieces for her trouble.

Alisbeth hugs the demon hunter. “What do you want now? Sleep? Food? Booze? Name it! I’ll get it.” She grins eagerly up at him.

Grimory thinks on it, but no sooner does his finger reach his chin than his stomach gives a sickening grumble. He shrugs and smiles. ::I guess that answers that.:: He jerks a thumb at the café down the street inquisitively.

Alisbeth frowns at the dark buildings. “I think everything is closed. Except taverns. Do they serve food in taverns?” She hooks her arm in his and leads him down the street, not heading anywhere in particular. She grins up at him, then frowns, then grins again. “I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed you, but also like something bad is going to happen.” She grips him closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

Grimory looks around him, confused at his lack of being able to tell the time. A sudden rush of panic hits him and he looks down at her. ::What’s the date? How long was I asleep for?::

Alisbeth purses her lips, then shrugs. “I dunno. Isn’t it just…a day? Don’t you usually only sleep for a day? Maybe we should ask someone!”

Grimory shrugs, then nods at the suggestion. ::Where are the others?::

Alisbeth shrugs. “I don’t know. Tavern? I didn’t see them at the inn. You wanna go to them? If we can find them.”

Grimory nods. ::Maybe they have answers about…this. I bet they’re at the Nighthearts’.:: He takes her hand and smiles.

Alisbeth jolts and grins. “You’re so smart! Come on, let’s go.” She tries to run but realizes the demon hunter is still weak. She returns to his side and grins but remains jittery all the same. When they reach the tavern, she peeks inside, then screams out with joy as she hops into the doorway without him. “You were right!” She throws her hands up in the air.


	43. Chapter 43

Koltira takes a breath and holds out his hand for Jorick to shake. “Sorry for that awkwardness a moment ago. Not sure I was ever prepared to meet an ex of hers.”

Thassarian barks a laugh at the other human. “So, you admit Ana is better than you?”

Jorick grins and gives Koltira’s hand a firm shake. “No harm done. And I’m about eighty percent more friend than ex. It was only a short time.” He inhales to say more but is cut off by the screaming at the door.

Anarchaia turns, the sound of Alisbeth’s voice jarring her. “Ali? Right about…?” Her eyes widen as a second figure joins the death knight in the doorway. Her bar stool screeches across the floor as she scrambles to her feet. She throws her arms around the demon hunter’s neck, tears welling in her eyes. “Grim! Oh, my gods, Grim!”

Grimory stumbles back a pace, then furrows his brow and returns the embrace cautiously. ::Uh… Hi.::

Alisbeth bats at the mage while gripping the demon hunter. “Stop, he’s tender! Hey, Agamemnon, what’s today? Grim asked me and I don’t know. I thought we were on Amtrack, but then I was in this room and there was a hole and the _door was locked! _How rude, right? Hi Ervaen! Kolty! Thass!” She runs over to hug each in turn.

Thassarian blinks at the blood that has soaked through her shirt in small bits. “Um…hi Ali? Where’ve you been?”

“Africa!” She turns on Jorick and stops. “I don’t know you. Hi!” She throws her arms around him, as well.

Jorick chuckles as he’s jostled and returns the embrace with an arm. “Well hello! I haven’t met you, either. Name’s Jorick. And who might you be?”

Koltira stands and goes to the mage and demon hunter still in the doorway. “Grim…” He motions at a table. “You look like you could use a seat…and a drink.”

Anarchaia looks between the two, then clears her throat. “It’s been, uh… About a month. Heh.”

Grimory’s eyes widen and he mouths, ::A month?!::

The mage tilts her head. “I… Don’t understand. Can you not speak?”

The demon hunter sinks into the chair he’s beckoned into, running a hand over his hair.

“Do you remember anything that happened?” Koltira asks, flagging Ervaen over with a raised hand.

Grimory shakes his head. ::Argus? That’s…it. What happened?::

Anarchaia scrunches her face. “I can’t understand anything he’s saying.” She shoots Koltira a look.

Ervaen responds by bringing over a glass of whiskey as is per the demon hunter’s usual request, winces at the sight of the scars, then returns to his post.

Alisbeth jumps up and down and giggles. “Hi, Yearbook! I’m Alisbeth! I was married to Koltira but then he started screwing Anagram behind my back, but that’s okay because I was doing the same with Grim—but it turns out I knew Grim from forever ago—and so that wasn’t too bad, but at the time I was pissed, so I killed him, but he didn’t actually die because Atheist found him and saved his life and I’m normally not supposed to talk about all this stuff, but Grim doesn’t care and Koltira is _waaay _over there. Hey, are you a friend or a stranger?”

Thassarian blinks slowly and swallows a large gulp of his drink. “He’s a friend. Why are you bleeding?”

“I don’t know!” she says with a grin that seems too happy for the subject. “Suddenly I was in a room and I was covered in scratches, but that’s okay cause I got out. Grim got me out. He’s so wonderful.”

Jorick simply blinks as he takes all the information in. “Oh, so you’re the real Alisbeth,” he laughs, disregarding the butchering of his name. “Nice to meet you. That’s, uh…quite a story.” He glances at Thassarian as though he can add some clarity to the chaos, then eases Alisbeth’s arms from around his neck. “You’re quite the spitfire.”

Thassarian blinks slowly again and just nods at the other human.

Alisbeth grins. “I’m a firepit!” she shouts, then runs over to sit on the demon hunter’s lap. “There’s a new friend over there. His name is Yucca. Did you find out how long you were asleep? Hey, hey,” she tugs on Anarchaia’s sleeve, “if Grim was asleep for a day, where was I? I don’t remember anything. Oh! We were fighting a big demon guy.”

Koltira blinks rapidly. “Ali, slow down.”

“But why? I’m excited! I don’t know why, though.” She tugs on the mage’s sleeve again. “Hey, hey, why can’t Grim talk? Why did he have a string in his neck? Why was I in the room next to mine with a hole in the wall? I had to knock on the door.”

With Alisbeth out of earshot, Thassarian grimaces. “She, uh…had a traumatic death. Didn’t take the resurrection too well and then spent far too long in solitary confinement because she went on a murderous rampage. She’s completely harmless, though.”

Jorick nods while watching Alisbeth fervently talk with the others. “Uh. I…guess that’ll do that to you?” He thanks Ervaen when another glass is put before him. “So, the big guy with the slashed throat. He seems popular.” He sips his drink. “And those two were together?” He gestures at both death knight elves with two fingers, then chuckles. “Quite a change if he’s with Ana, now.”

Thassarian shrugs. “I stay out of their weird affairs. As for the demon hunter, eh. Yeah. I’m not sure what’s going on there. Looks like he got the bad end of a demon.”

Jorick sighs. “Maybe I better take your advice,” he mumbles to Thassarian.

Anarchaia fidgets and glances between them. “There was a demon. A big one. He…knocked…you out.” She looks at Alisbeth. “You were so upset. I had to restrain you. So I put you in the next room.” She grits her teeth when Grimory gestures to the nasty scar across his neck—mouthing words she can’t make out—then she again glances at Koltira. “Yeah…”

Koltira purses his lips, his eyes shifting nervously to the other death knight. “Just a flesh wound,” he shrugs, deciding to tell him the truth later, without Alisbeth around.

She purses her lips. “I don’t like your story. How true is it?”

Anarchaia waves her hands dismissively. “One hundred percent!” she blurts with a nervous laugh. “Sit, Ali. Have a drink. Heheh…”

Grimory rubs at the spot on his throat and takes another drink. He sighs. ::Are Tav and Kel okay?::

Anarchaia goes to the bar to retrieve her drink, smiles awkwardly at the two men, then sits at the table with the other three.

Koltira nods after Alisbeth asks Grimory’s question aloud. “Yeah, they’re fine. Everyone’s fine. Just…worried.”

“Grim’s hungry. Right, Grim?” Alisbeth scoots into an empty chair. “I want a drink, too. Hey, Ervaen! I want a drink too!” she shouts. “Hey, Ytterbia, Thass, why are you all the way over there?”

The human death knight sighs. “I won’t blame you if you don’t want to go over there. On the other hand, you can catch up with Ana.” He winks and chuckles into his glass.

After narrowing an eye, Jorick gives a defeated shrug and stands. “Fine but you’re coming with.” He grabs Thassarian by the back of his cuirass, then pulls him to his feet and toward the table with the rest.

Grimory gives a nod to the two men before nodding at Alisbeth as well.

Ervaen brings over a bottle of whiskey and sets it in the center of the table. “Sorry, kitchen staff is gone for the night. I have some bread and peanuts behind the bar if you can deal with it.” He smiles tiredly when the demon hunter gives him a nod of affirmation and goes to retrieve the items.

Anarchaia clears her throat and gestures to the Illidari. “Jorick, this is Grim. Grim, Jorick.” She wrings her robes beneath the table as the human takes up a seat beside her after giving Grimory a hand shake. “He normally talks, I promise. Heh. Just had a bad row.”

“What kind of a row leaves one unable to speak?” Thassarian asks, dropping down between Jorick and Alisbeth.

Anarchaia purses her lips beneath her mask and swirls her wine around in the glass.

::The bad kind, I guess,:: Grimory mouths and takes a drink.

Koltira just shrugs and takes his own drink. “I think this talk is dreary. We’re all together, Grim’s awake, Ana has her new friend, and Ali is…bleeding but in good spirits. Let’s hear more about Jorick. What is it you do?”

Alisbeth looks down at her shirt. “No. I’m fine. Not bleeding.”

Grimory looks down at Alisbeth and lifts a brow. ::Are you certain you’re not bleeding?:: He takes a bite of slightly hardened bread, then barely finishes chewing before downing the rest of the piece.

Jorick clicks the clawed metal tips of his glove against the wooden table top. “I’m a mercenary,” he says casually.

The mage jerks her head in his direction. “M-Mercenary?! But isn’t that ridiculously dangerous?”

He smiles knowingly at her and lifts a segmented brow. “Not if you’re good.” He winks.

Alisbeth reads his lips and furrows her brow. “Pretty sure? Here, check for me.” She lowers her shirt collar and leans forward so only he can see down it.

“Gods, Ali,” Thassarian says, laughing anyway.

Koltira rolls his eyes at the two, then rolls them again at Anarchaia’. “Because what _we _do isn’t dangerous _at all_.”

Mouth full of a second piece of bread, Grimory leans over to look down her shirt as though it were second nature to him. He shakes his head and swallows. ::All clear.:: He washes it down with the rest of his drink, then rubs at his aching eyes.

Anarchaia looks at Koltira and scowls only slightly. “We have magical abilities. And what we do doesn’t really leave room for acquiring enemies.”

Jorick blinks, eyebrows raised. “Are you saying I’m gimped because I can’t use magic?”

She flinches and turns back. “No! I-I mean—” She shakes her head. “It certainly does you no favors…”

“We could protect him!” Alisbeth squeals as she releases her shirt. “When we’re done, maybe. Oh! We could bring him with us!”

Koltira clears his throat. “Let’s not, uh…add anyone else to the roster.” He sets his hand on Anarchaia’s knee. “I lived without magic for centuries, Ana. I did fine.”

Grimory shrugs. ::I’d say the more the merrier.::

Anarchaia crooks her mouth at Koltira though he cannot see. “High elves are inherently magical. Perhaps you didn’t utilize any, but I’m sure if you wanted to you could have.” She sticks out her tongue, but it only appears as a bulge in her mask.

Thassarian shrugs. “I was also without magic until my death. A warrior of Lordaeron.”

“You got _old _when you died,” Alisbeth laughs.

He makes a face. “It’s just the beard. All Northrend did was turn me grey far too early.”

“_Old man_,” she teases and giggles, grabbing the whiskey bottle.

Jorick gives a small, breathy laugh at the fuss. “I honestly don’t need any protection, but the offer is kind all the same. I’ve been doing this for twenty years.” He casts a grin toward Thassarian. “And not a gray hair yet, eh?”

One of Koltira’s lower lids raises up. “Being a magical being is different from using magic. And it’s beside the point. Did you hear Thassarian? Normal, boring human. And it wasn’t the adventures that killed him, it was his Prince.”

“Well…” Thassarian says on a high, contemplative note, “technically we were on an adventure. In Northrend. And technically Arthas didn’t kill me, it was my captain. And—”

“Okay, she gets it.” Koltira kicks the other man’s boot under the table. “Point is, I’m sure he’s fine. But if you’re that worried I can raise him if he fails.” He shrugs casually, though a playful smirk twitches on his lips.

Anarchaia purses her lips up at him. “Also not my point.”

“The more the merrier!” Alisbeth shouts when she realizes no one noticed Grim’s airy, silent comment. “New friends are great. I like having friends.” She reaches across Thassarian to gently pet the other human’s dark brown hair.

Jorick’s eyes widen some at the word _raise_ and he gives an uneasy chuckle. “Eh, heh, think I’d rather stay down in the event of my no-doubt-violent demise.” He leans forward to look at Koltira past Anarchaia, not minding the petting by Alisbeth. “No offense.”

Grimory gives a nod of agreement and resists the urge to pull Alisbeth’s hand away.

Anarchaia again wrings at her robes.

Koltira’s smirk turns nervous. “It was a joke.” He leans back with his drink.

Thassarian chuckles. “I thought it was funny. Especially this poor bastard’s expression.” He jerks a thumb at Jorick. He grumpily waves Alisbeth’s arm out of his face. “Pet your demon boy.”

“Okay!” Alisbeth switches arms, reaching up to run her fingers along Grimory’s horn, stopping to scratch lightly in the curve.

Grimory leans away slightly and sticks his tongue through his fangs at the sensation. ::That tickles.::

Jorick drains his glass and rolls his eyes at the man beside him. “I said no offense! I just like being…y’know. Warm. And alive.”

Anarchaia shifts uncomfortably. “G-game! Our game. Thass, your turn. Heh.”

Thassarian blinks at the mage. “Oh. We’re still doing that? Ehh…”

“What game are we playing?” Alisbeth asks, scratching the demon hunter’s horn faster to tickle him.

“Never Have I Ever,” Anarchaia reminds, lifting a finger in point.

Jorick gives the faintest of smirks. “I’m bad at this one.” He pauses. “And old?”

Grimory scowls and grabs Alisbeth’s hand hard enough to stop her but not enough to hurt.

“I wanna go next!” Alisbeth shouts. “Never have I ever fu— No. Die— Uh… I’ve never uhm… Eaten an insect?”

Koltira makes a face and takes a drink.

Anarchaia’s head immediately turns to the elf next to her and she chuckles, half amused and half appalled. “Really? Gross. Why?”

“I lost a bet,” Koltira says to the mage. “Faltora made me eat a beetle. I got him back, though.”

Jorick also takes a hesitant drink, then shrugs at the look he gets next. “Said I was bad at this game, didn’t I?”

Grimory makes a face of minor disgust at the two, then pauses. ::Are worms insects?::

Thassarian chuckles at Alisbeth’s repeat of Grimory’s question. “Bottoms up.”

Alisbeth picks at the table and chews on her bottom lips. “I’m not good at it, either. Not much I haven’t done, and even then sometimes I can’t remember.”

Anarchaia shakes her head and makes another face beneath her mask. She clears her throat and grins. “All right. Never have I ever eaten meat.”

Jorick scoffs at her. “You pull that one every time, you cheater.” He takes another drink from his glass.

Grimory blinks. ::Not once? Ever?::

Anarchaia sticks her tongue out at Jorick before giving Grimory a befuddled glance. “I have no idea what you’re saying. But just drink.”

The demon hunter gives an irritated sigh and drinks. The combination of a nearly empty stomach and alcohol make his head light and he presses a cheek to his knuckles, elbow on the table.

Koltira turns to stare at the mage. “I don’t believe you.”

Alisbeth takes a drink and leans her head on the demon hunter’s. “Seriously, meat’s awesome. I miss the taste.”

Thassarian also drinks. “Dehydrated meat rations and bread. A soldier’s banquet.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “Never have I ever been someone’s apprentice.”

Alisbeth takes a quick drink; Koltira seemingly ignores the new comment, his eyes still fixed on the mage.

Anarchaia grins at the death knight beside her from beneath her mask. “Never. I’m a vegetarian.” She turns automatically at the word _apprentice_ and scowls. “Oh, so this is the game you want to play,” she mutters, then reaches for her mask to drink. She stops when the cup reaches her lips, very aware of the eyes of the man beside her. _No! Nonono!_

Jorick lifts his eyebrows. “Apprentice? To whom?”

She quickly lowers her mask again. “N-no one important. Heh.” She swallows, both relieved and suspicious that he did not seem to notice.

Grimory drinks. _I guess Father counts_.

Koltira’s eyes narrow further. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“She’s Antelope!” Alisbeth says. “Whose turn is it?”

“Pretty boy’s,” Thassarian says.

Anarchaia scoffs and puts a hand on her chest. “What! Why is that so astounding?”

Grimory looks up at the name, then scowls and motions somewhat drunkenly to his throat. “…?”

Jorick grins. “I think he’s saying _Never have I ever worn a shirt_.”

“I just…never took you for a vegetarian. I mean, I suppose it makes sense. If you had to kill something to feed yourself, you’d starve to death.”

Anarchaia hugs herself and huffs. “I saw father clean a rabbit when I was a toddler, all right? It was traumatizing.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow as he acknowledges the things being said. “Thass either means me or Grim, I’d think.”

“Don’t you know I only have eyes for you?” Thassarian says, laughing as he takes a drink.

“You get weird when you drink,” Koltira says, his nose wrinkling.

Jorick looks over the mage at Koltira and chuckles. “Ana, I think you’re being cheated on.”

She snerks. “If it’s Thass I think I can live with it.”

Thassarian scoffs at the other human. “He’s cheating on me with her. I killed him fair and square.”

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip. “Are you saying ‘I never lost my voice’? Oh! ‘I never got my throat cut’!?”

Grimory stares off, unamused, into the ether. Then slowly looks at Alisbeth and mouths ::No. I’m saying I can’t play, really. Just drink.::

Koltira shakes his head at both humans. “Never have I ever been through the Dark Portal.”

Alisbeth makes a face at the other death knight and takes a drink.

“You have to kill him to claim him? Ugh, I guess I’m still single, then.” Anarchaia ponders for a second while she watches Grimory take a drink. “Does it matter which timeline? I’ve…been… Y’know what? Never mind.” She folds her arms after taking a quick sip. “Jorick.”

Alisbeth giggles and pushes her forehead into his cheek. “That’s your favorite part, anyway!”

“”The man perks. “Oh. Hm.” He scratches beneath his chin. “I’ve never dated someone more than a century older than me.”

The mage blinks, then turns to the elf beside her. “How old are you?”

Koltira laughs. “Does she need to take a drink for every century?”

Alisbeth takes a drink. “Do I have to take a drink for each person?”

Thassarian chuckles. “Do it for the sake of drinking.”

Alisbeth takes another drink and cranes her neck to grin at Grimory.

Anarchaia sighs and takes another, longer drink, being careful to face somewhat away from the man beside her. She reluctantly refills her cup with the bottle in the middle.

Grimory blinks at her. ::You’ve dated a lot of guys, have you?::

Alisbeth blinks her widened eyes at him. “You and Koltira. You’re _old_.” She giggles and pokes at him.

Grimory jerks and rubs at the spot. ::I’m only, like, fifty years older than you,:: he silently mutters.

Koltira chuckles as he watches the mage. “I have two centuries on this one,” he says to Jorick.

“I prefer them younger,” Thassarian says. “None of these long elf years, thank you.”

“You’re lucky I have no issue robbing the grave so to speak,” Anarchaia says with a sarcastic grin. She pinches his cheek gently, then looks at Thassarian. “Oh? Prefer the average age of a troll, hm?” She smirks.

Jorick chuckles at the chaos he’s caused, then gives Thassarian a sideways glance. “Your turn, I’m afraid.”

Thassarian narrows his eyes at the mage and the other man in turn. “Reasonable age,” he says curtly. “I never been with a mage.”

Koltira rolls his eyes and drinks.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I don’t remember. I don’t know. What do I do?”

Grimory drinks the last of his glass and closes his eyes. He opens one to look at Alisbeth, then places a hand on hers to lift her drink to her lips.

Jorick looks down at Anarchaia beside him. “Were you technically a mage then?”

She blushes and looks away, discomfort growing. “No.”

He grins at Thassarian. “Free pass.” He points at Alisbeth. “Hyper pale woman. You go.”

Alisbeth taps the glass to her teeth as she thinks. “Never have I ever been to the Exitdoor.”

“Try again,” Koltira says.

“I don’t remember so it counts.” She looks to Grimory. “Right?”

The corners of Grimory’s lips tighten and he shakes his head slightly. ::Then just choose something you remember.::

<<There something wrong with this one?>> Jorick whispers to Anarchaia in Common, gesturing subtly with his cup.

She sighs. <<It’s a long story.>> “What about Mac’Aree, Ali? You haven’t been there.”

“Where’s Macaroni?” Alisbeth asks.

Koltira drinks and lifts Anarchaia’s drink for her. “Argus.”

Thassarian grunts and taps at his glass. “You people and your wild adventures.”

Jorick lifts his eyebrows and looks at the two to his side. “Argus? As in the huge, looming doom orb in the sky driving everyone bonkers, Argus?”

Anarchaia nods. “It’s not as awful as that. Some parts are really beautiful.”

The dark-haired man clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “And I thought I was the crazy one. Hope you guys are getting compensated.” He lifts his glass. “There’s one. I’ve never taken a job that didn’t pay me.”

Anarchaia bristles. “Some things are more important than money. And some of us don’t have a choice!” She folds her arms, then briefly unfolds them to take a drink before crossing them again and pouting.

Koltira nods. “I get orders I cannot refuse. Her cousin,” he points at Alisbeth across the table, “has mysterious orders from some unnamed entity. He asked us to act as bodyguards. He’d die on his own, to be honest. Shouldn’t even be there.”

Alisbeth throws a pretzel at the other elf. “He wouldn’t die on his own! I mean…on Asparagus, I guess. If he didn’t crawl into a hole and just hide until someone saved him.” She giggles.

Thassarian eyes his glass. “I’m afraid you might be the only one at the table who is in it for the pay.”

Jorick leans back some and shrugs. “Guess I’m the only one retiring early, then.”

“Early? You’re forty-four.” Anarchaia chuckles.

Now slightly inebriated, he narrows an eye at her. “Oh yeah? You’re nearly just as old, miss. Is that what the mask is for? Don’t think I wasn’t gonna ask—” Jorick hisses in pain as his shin is kicked.

Anarchaia gives a nervous chuckle and scrambles to fill in the silence that follows. “Kolt, I think it’s you… Heh.” She fiddles with her robes, then leans over to the human beside her. “Meet me in back after this round and I’ll tell you, okay? Just don’t bring it up again.”

Koltira narrows his eyes at the mage. <<Should I be getting jealous, or is this actually nothing to worry about?>>

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip and leans to set her lips to Grimory’s ear. “Why’s the new guy get to know about Almondbutter’s face, but I don’t?”

“I never whispered secrets in peoples’ ears while in the company of others,” Thassarian grouches.

Anarchaia flushes and gives the death knight a smile. “N-no! Nothing to worry about.” She gives his cheek a gentle pat. “Oh, uh…” She takes a drink at Thassarian’s prompt, albeit grumpy. “Koltira, you go since Thass took your turn. I’ll, uh, be right back. Heh.” After a quick kiss to her partner’s cheek, she stands and makes her way toward the back hallway of the tavern.

Jorick, as not to seem suspicious, simply relaxes at the table and sips at his whiskey. “So, you two a thing over there, or…?”

Grimory’s ears perk and he flushes. His head takes one motion of a shake before he makes a face and looks at Alisbeth instead.

Her smile dims at the immediate negative response and she straightens. She locks her jaw and stares ahead, ignoring the demon hunter. “Nothing,” she hisses through her teeth.

Thassarian blinks rapidly and chooses to ignore the growing tensions. “Deathweaver, she said it was your turn.”

He leans back. “Never have I ever killed my best friend.”

“Doesn’t count,” Thassarian grumbles.

“It counts.”

Alisbeth takes a quick drink, as though the faster she goes the less likely it is she’ll be noticed.

Grimory sighs and looks back Jorick with a more irritated demeanor. ::Yes,:: he mouths. Before he can explain more, however, Koltira’s words hit him and he frowns. Somberly looking at the nearly empty bottle in the center, he takes a drink.

Jorick flicks his attention between the majority of the people at the table before giving a breathy, amused chuckle. He stands. “I’ll be right back, kiddos. That whiskey goes right through you.” He saunters off in the direction Anarchaia had gone.

Thassarian sets his glass down and cocks an eyebrow at the demon hunter. “If I ask, will I get a story or a very stern ‘fuck off’?”

“My vote is on the fuck off, just so you can be disappointed,” Koltira says on a chuckle. He glances toward the back, where the other two had gone.

“I’ll get her,” Alisbeth growls. She stands abruptly, knocking her chair to the floor, and heads for the restrooms at the back of the tavern.

Grimory knits his brow at the human. ::Will you even understand me if I tell you?:: he mouths.

Thassarian eyes the demon hunter. “Uhh…what?”

Koltira laughs and leans back. “Maybe wait until he can talk?”

Grimory rolls his eyes and gives a dismissive wave.


	44. Chapter 44

Just outside the back entrance to the tavern the mage taps her boot nervously. She gives an uneasy smile when Jorick approaches, but it quickly gives way to a frown. “Look,” she begins, “a lot has happened since we were teenagers.”

“You mean since I left.”

She cringes, then nods. “And I’m only showing you this because I-… Because I think you deserve to know. And because if it were the other way around, _I_ would want to know.” She frowns up into his face, but her hands remain at her sides.

Jorick folds his arms, armor clinking, and stares down at her with intense interest and no smile. “I noticed. Your skin, that is. What happened?” His eyes grow wide as she hesitantly removes her mask. Suddenly sober and with a rush of anger, he grabs her by the arms. “Who?!”

Anarchaia yipes in surprise and drops her mask. “B-bandits! Rogues!”

He growls. “_But who?!_”

“Flayblade!”

He releases her and takes a half step away. “Morohest.”

She nods and rubs at her arms. “Y-yeah. Mother and Father, too.”

Alisbeth perks an ear from where she leans into the empty bathroom. She turns to the door leading outside, then kicks it wide open and hops outside. “Who’s shouting out here? Hey!” She grabs Jorick by the shoulder and pulls him back. “Don’t you yell at Amaryllis!” She stops, still as a statue as she stares at the mage.

Jorick instinctively reaches for a dagger at his belt when he’s jerked back, then relaxes some and lowers his eyelids. “Oh.”

Anarchaia, however, mimics the death knights stony state, hands over her mouth. “A-Ali…” She swallows. “I…didn’t want you t-to find out like this. I didn’t want you to find out _at all_.” She cautiously lifts her hands out in front of herself.

Jorick furrows his brow at the tension and slowly reaches for his dagger again.

Alisbeth jerks at the sound of the man’s armor shifting for his weapon. She spins on him and shoves her elbow into his nose, then pushes off him, launching at the mage. “You monster!” She gets her hands around the mage’s throat. “You tricked me. You _lied_ to me!”

Jorick grunts and immediately holds his broken nose. When the sparkles in his vision flutter away, he jumps forward to pull at Alisbeth, quickly putting a blade to her throat and struggling to subdue her.

Anarchaia blinks out of the death knight’s grasp and away a few feet. She holds her aching throat. “Don’t hurt her!”

The man does his best to hold onto the flailing elf. “_Don’t hurt her?!_ She just tried to kill you!”

“She can’t kill me by strangulation. Just knock me out…”

“I don’t care,” he growls and pushes the blade closer.

“Jorick, no! I mean it!”

Alisbeth pulls at the man’s wrist. She screams, high and shrill. “I knew it! I knew it! You’re one of them! You’re here to finish the job!” She suddenly stops resisting and instead presses the blade to her throat. “Do it. _Do it!_”

Jorick has to physically restrain from actually cutting the woman in his arms. “She told me not to!”

~ * ~

The two death knights jump and blink at each other as the sound of the scream enters the tavern. Grimory, knocking over anything in his way, rushes through the back door as fast as his legs can muster. He stops at the sight if a blade at Alisbeth’s throat and clenches his fists as they morph into claws.

The human lifts a hand. “Woah, now. I’m not going to hurt her. Ana told me not to.”

The demon hunter turns at the mention of Anarchaia, then pauses at the rare sight of her face. Realization hits him and he turns back to Alisbeth, wanting to explain but knowing he cannot.

“You knew,” Alisbeth says. She glares at the other death knights. “You all knew! You’re all trying to kill me!” She screams and shoves out of Jorick’s grip, then rushes toward the mage. But she doesn’t stop. She runs to the end of the alley to flee.

Thassarian raises his eyebrows at Anarchaia. “Oh. Now you’ve gone and done it.”

Anarchaia scoffs at Thassarian and gestures to herself. “_Me?!_ What have I done?! She came eavesdropping and—”

Koltira grits his teeth and goes to her. “Are you okay?”

She stops and sighs. “Yeah,” she says calmly. “I’m fine.”

Thassarian holds up his hands. “Not what I meant. Just, no offense intended, you being…that. In general. Not your fault, of course.”

Jorick brings a hand up to reset his broken nose, then grunts in pain as fresh blood streams over his lips and chin. “Light, if I’d known this would happen, I’d have kept to my own business.” He replaces the dagger as he watches the demon hunter run off after Alisbeth.

Anarchaia frowns over at him. “I’m sorry.”

Koltira shakes his head at the man. “You’re fine, Jorick. Anything can trigger her. Just being in this city with forsaken guards is…a bad idea. It’s a long story, but the quick and dirty of it is that two forsaken murdered her. She sought vengeance and had to be locked up.”

Thassarian _tsks _and shakes his head. “I told Mograine it was a bad idea. Tried to get her out, but it wasn’t enough. Her mind couldn’t handle it.” He leans around the other death knight to look at the mage. “Glad you’re okay.”

Anarchaia’s frown deepens and she shrugs. “Physically.” She glances down the alleyway and sighs again. “I’m sure Grim can handle it.” She goes to Jorick and pushes his hand away. “You need a healer.”

The man shakes his head and wipes the blood into the smooth metal of his armored arm. “No biggie. Been broke before. Heh.” He finds he can’t keep eye contact with her for more than a couple seconds. “Just needs time.”

She scowls despite the discomfort. “It won’t heal the same if you leave it.” The mage scoffs when he refuses again, then turns to the death knights and gestures for them to help.

Thassarian grabs the other human by the back of his cuirass. “Healer is open all hours. Let’s go.”

Jorick puts up a bit of resistance before wriggling free when they reach the streets. “Hold on, all right? Look, yeah, healers are fine and dandy, but you know what’s better? Apothecaries.” He gives Thassarian a bloody smile before patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks for the excitement, friend.” He turns in the opposite direction from the infirmary.

Thassarian narrows his eyes. “If you say so. Don’t tell Ana I let you go.”

Jorick laughs from the light of a street lamp down the road. “Why? You afraid of her?” he calls as he waves and turns into another alleyway.

Koltira stoops and picks up Anarchaia’s mask. He pushes it gently into her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, as though all of it is his fault.

Anarchaia shakes her head and sinks to sit on her heels. She wrings the mask in her hands, then holds back a sob she hadn’t anticipated. “This is bad, isn’t it?” she asks quietly.

Koltira lets out a lungful of air as he kneels beside her. He sets his palm comfortingly on her spine. “Possibly. But…maybe we can find a way around it? With all that’s happened, she does like you, I think. Otherwise she would have just killed you with her first suspicions.”

Anarchaia breaks down into tears. “She _did_ try to kill me! And she didn’t even know!” She turns to bury her face in his shoulder. “And I’m not only afraid of what she’ll do, I’m afraid of what will happen to _her_ if she succeeds.”

Koltira sighs. “What do you want to do about it?”

Anarchaia shrugs and sniffles. She rubs at her nose with the back of her hand. “Kill myself before she inevitably does? Heh.”

Koltira presses his palm to Anarchaia’s shoulder until she tips over. “No.” He stands and offers her a hand up off the ground, absently nodding as Thassarian returns to the end of the alley. “How about a real solution? We could tell her not to rejoin us on Argus.”

Anarchaia gives a quiet _oof_ as she falls, then sticks out a lower lip at the hand up. She hesitates as she stands. “I…don’t want to give any commands to her. But I don’t want to get hurt and I don’t want to hurt _her_.” She chews on her lip as she thinks. “It may be best just to avoid her.” She pauses. “Forever.”

He shakes his head and hugs her. “Argus isn’t that small, Ana. She either goes or she stays, there really is no avoiding her.”

The mage takes a moment to think, then clenches her fists. “Well I’m not inviting her. If she wants to go with Grim, then so be it. I’m done with niceties. With pretending like we’re friends.”

“Were you always pretending? Or were you actually her friend? Maybe after you two calm down you can try to talk…”

She folds her arms and looks away. “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to be nice?”

Koltira lets out a long breath. “Just…never mind. You’re right. She can’t go with us anymore.”

Anarchaia gives a small growl of frustration then turns to him. “I tried to. Really, I did. But when she…murdered you, all my efforts became really watered down.” She deflates some, shoulders sagging. “Maybe we should just…go home.”

Koltira frowns. “You know I can’t. Not yet. And if I did manage to go get away with going against orders, that idiot scholar would go off on his own and die. I actually like the squirrelly little bastard.”

“Taveth?” Thassarian asks as he reaches them. “He’s a weird one. Makes good drinks.”

Anarchaia pouts. “His new boyfriend can take care of him…” She groans. “Can we just get sloppy drunk and pass out somewhere, then?” She smiles at Thassarian. “The three of us?”

“Boyfriend?” Thassarian asks, an eyebrow raised.

Koltira laughs. “Don’t say anything to him. He just gets flustered and trips over his own tongue. Come on. Drinks on Ana.” He winks down at her and opens the door, ushering the two inside with a hand.

Anarchaia scoops up her mask and rolls her eyes with a small grin. “Sure. I’m debt free, now. Why not?”

~ * ~

Grimory calls out for Alisbeth, then curses inwardly when his voice doesn’t come. He hisses through his teeth and jumps into the air to follow from the skies.

Alisbeth stops and grabs a stone from inside a floating potted planter. She spins and lobs it at the man flying overhead. “I won’t let you take me!” she screams, then continues running.

Grimory narrowly dodges the stone, then leaps down in front of her and turns, arms outstretched in his best attempt to stop her.

Alisbeth fights against the man’s arms. “Please. Please. I don’t want to die. Please, don’t kill me.”

Grimory struggles with the woman for a moment before pressing his lips to her ear. “Ali, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Grim, yeah? Me. You know me,” he whispers, doing his best not to hurt her.

“No, no, you tricked me. You’re all conspiring against me!” She struggles half-heartedly against him, her panic instead manifesting as tears.

Grimory frowns and loosens his grasp as she fights less and less. His hold on her becomes more of an embrace and he turns her around to hug her instead. “We didn’t. We aren’t.”

Alisbeth’s body shivers, though she’s colder than the night air. “But you all lied to me. I’m so scared. What is she going to do to me?”

Grimory shakes his head and pulls away to look her in the eyes. ::She’s not going to do anything to you, Ali. She likes you. She wouldn’t hurt you.::

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “What else are you lying to me about? How can I trust any of you? Are you the one that put me in the room? Did they do it?”

Grimory scowls down at her. ::I didn’t. What reason do I have to lie to you? Have I _ever_ lied to you?::

The death knight shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I want to go home.”

Grimory nods and steers her back toward the lounge. ::Maybe we can see Diori tomorrow. Would that make you feel better? And when I get my voice back, we could visit Mother and Father.::

Alisbeth stops. Her shoulders slump and she stares at the Legerdemain Lounge ahead of them. Then almost instantly, she bursts into more furious tears.

Grimory flinches in surprise and steps in front of her to look into her face, panic in his eyes. ::What? What’s the matter? Please stop crying…::

Alisbeth rubs her nose but doesn’t stop crying. After barely hearing what he whispers, she sniffles and shakes her head. “That’s home.” As she says it, her ears droop and she covers her face. “That’s not a home. I don’t have a home.”

Grimory frowns, brow knit. ::If you leave the city, you’ll never be allowed back in. We could get a house somewhere, yeah? You could stay there. That’d be home.::

Alisbeth shrugs and wipes her eyes as the tears subside. She gazes at the dark city, its lights shining in the green glow from the fel-tainted clouds covering the moon. “Why can’t I just be normal? And have friends? I just want…” She looks at her feet and turns to amble toward the Legerdemain Lounge.

Grimory’s disposition grows forlorn as he watches her walk away. He runs a hand over his hair and catches up in a few steps. ::Want to take a shower and rest a bit? I’ll…order cocoa. With mint?::

Alisbeth frowns and reaches back to take the demon hunter’s hand. She slips her fingers between his and squeezes. “Cocoa and cuddles on the couch in front of the fire?” She slowly smiles as she says it, until she’s grinning and leaning into his shoulder.

Grimory returns the grin, albeit tiredly, and nods. ::I’d love to.::


	45. Chapter 45

Taveth wakes reluctantly, sitting up slowly. He stays in the bed, a small smile on his face as he thinks over the night before. After consulting the calendar on the wall, he picks out a nicer outfit than he usually wears and pulls it on slowly as he loses himself in thought.

Eophen, very accustomed to only sleeping for a few hours at a time, sits on the window sill of his quaint inn room. He gazes, golden eyes fixed on the blue sky above as he purposely averts his attention from the looming green orb just in his peripherals. He sips his hot tea.

Taveth mumbles and thinks over and over what he’ll say as he heads toward Eophen’s room. He stops and turns to walk away as his nerves get the better of him. He stops again and goes to the door, then forces himself to knock.

Dressed in his quilted under armour and tea still in hand, he looks down at the elf after opening the door. He smiles. “Good morning. Are we back off to Hell or am I getting that tour?”

Taveth smiles absently for a minute, then jolts as though remembering himself. “Actually, I lost track of the days, and, heh, it’s Pilgrim’s Bounty.”

Eophen blinks. “I am afraid I do not follow? Is it some sort of holiday?”

Taveth frowns and fiddles with his satchel strap. “Oh! Heh. Yes. We have huge feasts all around Azeroth. It has a great history. Come on, we can get the others!”

Eophen perks and smiles. “That sounds great. I would love to.” He looks down at himself. “Though perhaps a change of wardrobe is in order. Had I known I would be here longer, I would have packed…at all?” He gives a bashful grin.

Taveth grins up at the draenei. “There’s a beacon on Krasus Landing. I can take you there.” He leads the man through Greyfang Enclave and across the city, pointing out shops as they go. “I hope a partial tour is all right,” he says on a chuckle.

Eophen nods and gives a shrug. “Anything is good with me. Just experiencing new things is something I love.” He gives the shorter man a sideways glance. “So, this holiday. What does it mean?”

The high elf smiles up at the man. “It’s a time of…almost mutual peace on Azeroth. We celebrate family and friends with feasts outside our cities, and most guards and enemies will look the other way if you sit at an enemy’s table. I’ve never had friends of the opposing faction, but now that I do I’m eager to share the holiday with them.” They reach the bustling Landing and their progress is slowed incredibly as Taveth stops to let everyone pass first, lest he be trampled.

Eophen stops with him and watches down on the sea of people rushing by. He lifts his eyebrows. “Factions?” he says curiously, then apologizes as a dwarf pushes past his large frame.

“Heh. The races of our planet have aligned with what is called the Horde, or the Alliance. Some, such as myself, prefer to be more neutral--when I have the choice.” After what seems like ages, the two get to the beacon to return to the Vindicaar.

Eophen leads Taveth back through his familiar turf, toward his personal quarters. “How odd. Why not just come together?” The door of light dissipates at his approach. “Is one side evil like the eredar?” He rummages through his wardrobe in the corner of the quaint, metal room.

The elf laughs uncomfortably. “Not…evil, per se. Centuries ago the orcs came through the Dark Portal to conquer our world. Now, most of them just wish to live in peace on Kalimdor. The Alliance is unforgiving of the past and the Horde remains loathe to trust. So the fighting continues.”

Eophen blinks. “Yes. The Dark Portal. I have heard stories. Of my people being used as fuel.” He frowns. “Though, that seems to be a memory for them as well.” He smiles again as he removes his shirt to change. “Which is good. Progress is good.”

Taveth’s gaze drifts over the golden patterns across the draenei’s torso before he turns away to allow the man privacy. “Yes. I remember it. We had to leave our home in Stormwind and seek refuge elsewhere. The library was lost. It was a travesty. I helped rebuild it with a few books of my own.”

Eophen pulls his horned head through a new, more casual shirt, then frowns and sets a hand on Taveth’s shoulder. “I am sorry to hear about that, but can appreciate the work you put in.” He grins but does not remove his hand. “It is admirable to rebuild when things are taken from you.”

The elf gently sets his hand on Eophen’s for a moment before growing self-conscious. “Can’t expect others to do their part if I won’t do mine, right? A-are you ready?”

The draenei nods and removes his hand just as a similar looking draenei woman steps into the room.

“Oh,” she says, then relaxes and grins, tail flicking. <<You’re going out again?>> she says, arms folded.

Eophen nods. <<I’m going to participate in a holiday on the off-world. I don’t plan to be gone for more than a day.>>

Uulora gives a shrug. <<I imagine you want me to lie to father for you?>>

He gives a sheepish grin. <<Please?>>

She gives a tsk of defeat and walks over to pinch her brother’s cheek. <<Just be safe.>> She looks at Taveth. “You be safe, as well.”

Taveth grinsand nods. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Uulora nods and pats Taveth on the shoulder. “Good.”

<<Thank you, sister.>> Eophen gives her a grateful smile.

<<I just want to see you happy, brother.>> She turns, tail lazing behind her as she leaves. <<You haven’t been the same since Mother. Go have fun.>> She smiles and waves before disappearing back into the hallway.

Eophen turns his grin on Taveth. “Let us go.”

Taveth smiles up at the man walking beside him. “Your sister cares a great deal about you. It must be nice to have that kind of support.”

Eophen gives a sad sort of smile in return. “She is my only support. I am not sure what I would do without her.” He gestures to the portal back to Dalaran. “After you.”

~ * ~

Alisbeth grips her cup of fresh cocoa in her palms, the liquid quickly cooling around the four candy canes hooked over the side. Her frosty blue eyes are fixed on the demon hunter.

Grimory slowly opens his eyes and smiles tiredly at the woman beside him. ::Enjoying your cocoa?::

Alisbeth bites her bottom lip and sets the pad of her forefinger to the tip of his nose. “Boop.” She takes a drink and nods. “It’s very good. You want some?”

Grimory nods and brings his hands up to cradle the back of his head. ::Yeah. Maybe it’ll sate my hunger some.::

She holds out her mug to him. “Unless you want me to go get you some fresh?”

Grimory shakes his head and takes a sip of her now lukewarm cocoa. ::I prefer to share with you. And don’t get up on my account.:: He offers up the mug again. ::What’s the plan?::

Alisbeth scoots down and snuggles into his side. “Hmm. Lay here all day? More cocoa? See if I can fix your voice by making you scream?” She bites into his pectoral, hard enough to jolt him, but not enough to bruise or even draw blood.

Grimory jumps, hisses, and swats her head away with gentle fingers. ::I think it just needs time. The nurse said a few days?:: He smirks and shifts to get more comfortable. ::Not like anything I say means much anyway.::

Alisbeth bats at the man, then lets him take another drink. “I care about what you say!”

Grimory blinks tiredly. ::Only you.:: He brings up a hand to brush a lock of her hair back, then sighs through his nose and hands back her mug. ::Duty calls, I guess.::

She makes a face at him. “Everyone should care what you say. Can I come? I don’t want to stay here…alone.”

The Illidari nods. ::I don’t want to be alone up there, either.:: His grin widens some as he brings up a finger to poke into the tip of her pointed nose. ::Plus, we make a good team, yeah?::

“Of course we do! We’re awesome.” She hops up out of the bed and begins digging for matching armor. “What about the rest of them? Think they’re still at the tavern?”

Grimory sits up and shrugs, rubbing at an eye. ::I don’t know. I’m sure _Anartira_ is…wherever they fuckin’ go every night.:: He stretches. ::And Tav is…wherever he fuckin’ goes every night.::

“If you think we don’t need them, then I guess we don’t need them!” She grins and tosses his boots at him.

Grimory jerks as his boots land in his lap. He sighs and throws his feet over the side of the bed to pull them on. He fixes his hair in the mirror and frowns again at the sight of his disheveledness. His stomach gives a low gurgle as if in agreeance.

Alisbeth frowns at the demon hunter and runs her fingertips through his hair to assess it. “It feels like dead grass. Did you forget to condition?” She grins teasingly and taps his nose with her fingertip.

Grimory scrunches his face in a strange sort of smile. ::I think the water may have been too hot.:: He turns her toward the door. ::Mind if we stop for food, first?::

“Only if I can order something and pretend to eat it!” She giggles and jumps onto his back.

Grimory silently chuckles and locks the door behind them as he makes his way toward the café they’d become accustomed to. He sets her in a chair and sits beside her. ::Order for me?:: he says, cheek on his knuckles.

“You want a steak with a bone to gnaw on like a dog, and a coffee cause it’s too early to get drunk. Right?” She grins and bumps her shoulder to his. When the waiter comes out to take their order, she gives Grimory’s, then pauses. “And…can I have…some whipped cream with cinnamon on it?”

“I…think we can do that,” he says with a laugh, then goes inside.

Grimory’s smile falters the faintest bit at the word _dog_, but returns when she gives her order. ::Into whipped cream now, are you? Why not get coffee with it?::

“Because I’m not tired!” she giggles, leaning against him. “It’ll be like eating a cloud, don’t you think? Cinnamon is just so I can taste something. You can have a bite, if you want.”

Grimory knits his brow but smiles all the same. ::I’m not a sweets person. All for you, girlie.:: He nods his thanks to the waiter when their food arrives. He does not immediately take up his utensils, however. ::So…how are you feeling?::

Alisbeth furrows her brow at him as she pokes her whipped cream with a fork. “I feel fine. Why? Are you feeling okay?”

Grimory’s face softens and he shakes his head. ::I’m fine.:: He takes some of her whipped cream with a little finger, then dabs it onto her nose before cutting at his steak as though he hadn’t.

Alisbeth tries to lick the cream from her nose. “You promise?” She cleans the white spot off with a napkin and goes back to swirling her whipped cream around, watching the brown spice make patterns that immediately change.

The demon hunter nods while he chews, then rubs at his throat after he swallows. ::Peachy.:: He looks up at the green orb in the sky, then decides to ignore it for the time being. ::You’ll have to speak to Lord Illidan for me.::

Alisbeth’s nostrils flair and she purses her lips. “No. He’s a jerk and he hates me. I’m not talking to him. You can’t make me. Nope.” She drops her fork to her plate with a clatter and folds her arms to scowl at the air across from them.

A gnome makes a rude gesture at her, thinking her expression to be aimed at him.

Grimory frowns and furrows his brow some. ::But I can’t do it myself. And I need the mission details…:: He gives an apologetic wave to the small man at the next table.

She thinks on it, practically chewing the idea in her mouth. “_Fine. _Only for you. And I get to call him a butthead…to his face.”

Grimory straightens in mild panic, eyes widening and cheek full. ::Please don’t.::

The death knight pouts. “Behind his back…loud enough for him to hear.”

~ * ~

Anarchaia sits up with a start, bare chest heaving as she gives a quick glance around. “Oh,” she chuckles, head throbbing. “I actually passed out for a bit. Haha.” She pauses. “Wait, what day is it?”

Koltira smirks and removes his attention from his book, giving it to her. “Oh, is that it? Thought you’d died on me.” He chuckles. “It’s only been one night. Bad dream?”

She eases back down and places an arm over her eyes. “All my dreams are bad. But no. Just…felt like I’d missed my alarm, you know? Like I was late for a class I don’t even have.” She chuckles quietly and runs skeletal fingers through her tangled hair.

“Was it one of those ones where you’re naked?” he asks, looking down at her body.

Anarchaia stretches and rubs at her good eye. “No. Well. I don’t remember. I don’t think so? Just remember suddenly feeling late.” She sighs and smiles gently up at him, still slightly intoxicated. “You’ve never felt like that?”

He purses his lips and looks around the room. He sighs and picks at the dirt under a nail. “You know that time when I kind of raised a monster from the dead and… Don’t hit me.”

Anarchaia’s smile fades and she purses her own lips as well. “Yes, I recall. What about it? That makes you feel late? Or gives you bad dreams?”

He purses his lips. “I was meaning…the still drunk…part.”

Anarchaia’s face softens and she chews on the inside of her lip. She sets a hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Koltira shrugs and sets his book aside to wrap his arms around the undead woman. “It’s okay. I deserve the disappointment I know you must be feeling.” He sighs and presses his forehead to the side of her head. “Do we really have to go back?”

Anarchaia threads her arms beneath his to press their chests together. She presses her lips to his shoulders and absently runs her fingers through the very ends of his hair. “You know I’d love not to. But you said it yourself: responsibilities.”

Koltira makes a sour face and groans. “But why.” He grudgingly eases out of the bed, still holding onto the mage as though to give her the opportunity to change her mind and drag him back under the cover.

Anarchaia does just that, tightening her grip on him and allowing all her weight to sink into the bed. “Noooo,” she cries softly. “What if she’s there, though?”

The death knight grabs the mage into his arms and stands anyway. “We can check the inn to see if they’re there. If they’re not, then we’ll just do our best to avoid them. Shouldn’t be too hard, they’ve never been to Mac’Aree, they’ll just get lost.”

Anarchaia cringes at the thought of running into them and nods. “That does seem like the best option.” She blinks then reaches for her robes, a smirk slanting her lips. “Or we can have Tav do it.”

Koltira stops and stays still as a statue. “He doesn’t know yet… And Diori…”

Anarchaia buttons her pants at her waist and blinks up at him. “Yeah, you’re right. Unless you mean my face, then Tav does know…” She frowns and wrings her collar in her fingers. “She’ll probably tell Diori…and Kel.” She sighs and lowers to sit again, then picks up her mask to gaze down at it. “This is why I wear it to begin with.”

Koltira sets his hands on the mage’s. “Ana, not everything is about you and your pretty face. I meant about Grim. They don’t know he’s back.”

Anarchaia straightens and blinks again. “You’re right! They’ll be so excited! We have to tell them.” She pauses, then grows reserved, smiling shyly as though he doesn’t tell her often. “And it’s not pretty.”

“For someone so intelligent, you sure do say some stupid things.” He finishes dressing and takes her hands. “Let’s get this over with.”

Anarchaia scrunches her face at the compliment before throwing her mask back over her face. She secures the gown-like robes that Kel’ori had made her and turns to scrutinize herself in the mirror. She sighs and summons her bag to pull out their hearthstones. “To Dalaran, then?”

Koltira nods and takes his own stone. “I’ll see you there.” He kisses her cheek and disappears in a flash.

Anarchaia smiles and follows. She trots down the stairs of the Vindicaar until she finds Koltira. “You’re too fast,” she chuckles, then pauses near the end of the corridor. “Hello Tav. Er, Eophen, was it again?”

He nods. “Hello again, little mage.”

“Oh! Ana. Hello. And Koltira. Are you going to be joining in the festivities?” Taveth asks, pausing just before the portal back to Dalaran.

“Festivities?” The death knight nods a greeting to the draenei.

“Pilgrim’s Bounty, of course. We’ve been gone so long I didn’t realize today was the height of the holiday.” He takes the mage by the hand. “Please join us?”

Anarchaia straightens in mild surprise. “Is that _this week?_” She chuckles. “Time really starts to lose you when it doesn’t get cold in the winter.” Taveth’s hand still in hers, she looks up at Koltira with a smile. “Maybe just for a bit? We won’t eat anything, but…it’s our first holiday we actually have time to spend together.”

Koltira nods in agreement. “I think a calm day of food we won’t eat would be nice. Which city were you planning on celebrating in?”

Taveth purses his lips. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I wasn’t sure who would be joining us.”

Anarchaia frowns in realization. “Oh. There’s no neutral cities in which we can celebrate. The Horde won’t accept you two and the Alliance won’t accept Koltira, Ali, or Grim.” She taps at her chin.

The draenei perks. “Grim? Your Illidari friend?”

Taveth frowns at the mention of the demon hunter. “Ana…”

“Would you like to tell him, or should I?” Koltira hisses down to her.

Anarchaia perks once more and smiles. “Oh! That’s right!” She grabs Taveth by the shoulders and gives a small shake. “He’s alive! He woke up!”

Eophen’s eyes widen and he smiles. “That is good to hear!”

Taveth stiffens, his eyes wide. “R-really? It’s not some…trick? ... Or Spinewing?” He stares at the death knight.

Koltira raises his hands up. “I didn’t do anything. Not this time.”

“We have to go see him!” The elf leads the others through the portal, and once on the other side, turns toward the Legerdemain Lounge. “I assume they’re at the inn?”

Grimory's eyes slip past Alisbeth to the oncoming group. He tenses at the sight of the mage and quickly sets a hand on the death knight's thigh.


	46. Chapter 46

Anarchaia pauses halfway down the cobblestone street, wrenching her hand from Taveth’s. “Uh, they’re at the café. I’m going to wait...not there.”

Taveth blinks and approaches slowly. “Grim…” Rather than saying anything, he just leans forward to hug the man.

Grimory blinks, then chuckles and returns the hug with an arm. ::Hey, Tav. What’s going on? You look like you’ve...seen...:: He pauses, his eyes widening some. ::I was only out for a day...?::

Taveth straightens and furrows his brow. “Something wrong with your— Oh.”

“He asked what’s up and something about seeing a he didn’t say, then asked if he was only out for a day.” Alisbeth grins at her cousin. “Gotta watch his lips cause he’s too quiet.”

The high elf blinks back at her, noting her behavior and lack of rhyming. “No, it wasn’t a day… You w—”

Koltira slaps a hand over his mouth to silence him. “Don’t. Not here. Not in front of Alisbeth.”

Taveth nods and the death knight releases him. He straightens his clothing nervously. “Y-yeah. I’m just… So, today is the height of the Pilgrim’s Bounty feast. W-would you two like to join us? We could see if we can find some agreeable guards in one of the major cities? Or m-maybe we can get Ana to bri—”

Koltira clears his throat as Alisbeth stabs the fork into the center of the whipped cream so hard she splits the plate in half.

Before he can respond to the suspicious behavior, Grimory jumps at the noise and again sets his hand on her thigh beneath the table. ::Uh. M-maybe next year, yeah? Heh.:: He gives the other three a pleading look as though he’s not sure how to handle the situation.

Eophen shifts uncomfortably at the back. “I am told today is a day for, how do you say, getting along?” He gives a sheepish grin.

Taveth forces an uneasy smile at the tensions. “He’s right. It is. I-I could go get Diori!” He casts his glance at the others, waiting for an okay. He purses his lips when his sights land on Anarchaia.

Alisbeth jumps and smiles. “Diori! I miss her so much! Grim, can we please go? Please?”

Grimory’s gaze becomes more desperate as it focuses on Alisbeth, then Anarchaia some ways down the road, then Taveth, then back to Alisbeth. He slowly nods. ::If Diori comes.::

Alisbeth jumps out of her seat and claps. “Where are we going? When can I see her?”

“Do you promise to play nice?” Koltira asks, tilting his head toward the mage to make sure Alisbeth catches his meaning.

She grits her teeth and forces herself to smile, though it looks more like a grimace. “Yeeessss?” she hisses through her teeth.

Grimory nods and sets a hand on Alisbeth’s back. ::If not for us, then for Diori.::

The death knight forces a nod as her body remains rigid. “Yes. For her. Yes.”

Taveth slowly backs to Anarchaia. "What don’t I know?"

Anarchaia fidgets, feeling the tension from where she is despite the distance. “Sh-she knows. She tried to kill me.” She frowns. “It was an accident. I-I was showing Jorick, and...”

Taveth cringes. “I’m sure it’ll be fine... Just stay in public and don’t sit by each other? Heh.”

Anarchaia folds her arms and chews on the inside of a cheek. “Public won’t stop her, but I can do my best to keep my distance.” She sighs. “Do you know where we’re going?”

Taveth purses his lips and looks at each person in turn. “No? I mean, the choices are Stormwind and—” he glances at his cousin again, “Undercity… Or we can make our own with your help?”

Anarchaia blinks and tilts her head, then smiles. “Does your tavern here have a banquet room for parties? Otherwise I know an inn that does. Hopefully none of them are booked. Heh. It is rather last minute.”

The high elf purses his lips. “I’m actually not sure. I’m _supposed_ to be working there. That doesn’t mean I _have_ been. Why don’t you ask and I can go get Di—my sister…cousin. Whatever.” He smiles up at the draenei beside them. “And you can have a chance to see Stormwind.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “What about your actual sister? Does she want to come? Where did she even go?”

The elf shrugs.

Anarchaia nods. “Sure.” She disappears in a flutter of sparkles as though in a rush to rid herself of the anxiety.

Eophen smiles once again. “I would also like to meet this other sister of yours. As well as see this city you keep speaking so highly of.”

~ * ~

Alisbeth leans to the demon hunter’s ear. “Don’t let me do anything to scare Diori, okay? I don’t want her to be scared of me.”

Grimory wraps an arm around her waist and takes another bite. He shakes his head. “I know you can control yourself. I’ve seen it,” he whispers into her ear after swallowing.

Alisbeth smiles and hugs her arms around his torso, her fingertips running curiously along the new rough scar on his body. “You really think so?”

Grimory nods. ::Yeah. I do.:: He looks at his nearly depleted lunch. ::Wish I’d known it was the holidays...::

“Still got room for desert!” Alisbeth says, poking at what remains of his steak.

Grimory smirks at her, knowing the others are poor at reading his lips. ::Are you making it? There’s always one dessert I can go for.::

“I didn’t have time to make anything,” Alisbeth says with a frown. “I suppose cookies don’t take too long. Do you want some cookies? Ice cream? I can freeze it myself.” She winks and turns a blast of cold sleet at the broken plate; the whipped cream melting across the table freezes over.

Grimory blinks then gives a silent laugh. ::Whatever you like. I’m sure I’ll like it.::

~ * ~

Taveth leads Eophen back to Greyfang Enclave and through the Stormwind portal. Once on the other side, they make haste across the city to an area near the castle looming over the houses. He smiles up at the man’s eager gaze around the new city. “Told you it was grand.” He takes the man to a large two-story home, which is nicer than most of the houses, but still humble compared to the surrounding mansions. He enters slowly, knowing the whole of his family, save Ervaen, Kel’ori, and Yathen, could be inside due to the holiday.

Eophen lets his wide golden eyes wander over every window frame, brick, and lamp post as they pass. He starts at the sound of Taveth’s voice as though jostled from a daydream, then smiles. “It most certainly is. Perhaps I shall save enough of your currency to purchase a small home here.” He quiets when lead inside, not wanting to impose.

“Taveth!” a female elf with dark cobalt blue eyes jumps up from one of the two long couches. She drops a book to the cushion and runs over to hug him. “Why didn’t you write?” she steps back and gives his chest a playful pinch.

“I was on Argus,” he explains, turning away from her fingers. He blinks at the asymmetrical crop of her hair. “Your hair…you cut it…and it’s pink…”

“Magenta! I just needed something different. Almost went green. I’m thinking of adding tiger stripes, though. _You_ need a trim. I’ll get you later.” She gently pushes a clump of hair behind his ear, then turns her bright smile up at the draenei. “You’re one of those Lightforged! I’ve met a few of you in the shop. Are you a friend of my brothers?” She grabs his hand to shake it, regardless if he’d wanted to or not.

At the top of the stairs, Falren silently watches, a feeling of relief washing over him, knowing at least one of his children is still safe.

Eophen nods and returns the hand shake after a second of being taken off guard. “I am. We met on the ship I reside on.” He chuckles. “I am Eophen. And what can I call you?”

“I’m Tyndra,” she says. “Are you joining us for Pilgrim’s Bounty?”

Taveth twists his fingers nervously.. “Oh, uhm. We came to get Diori for a small gathering.”

Falren clears his throat. “She’s studying. Why don’t you join us, instead? Be nice to have everyone home.”

The man jumps lightly. “Oh, eh, well, you see, I, uh, her parents—”

“Didn’t her dad die?” Tyndra whispers.

Taveth laughs uneasily. “Funny thing about some demon hunters. Heh. They, uh, return. I guess.” He squirms under his father’s scrutiny.

“Where’s Kel’ori?” Falren asks.

The man fidgets. “I-I’m…not sure. With Docra, maybe?”

Eophen blinks at the conversation happening before him, then perks when he hears the pitter patter of smaller feet coming down the stairs.

“Tav!” Diori hops over the last step to run and hug her brother. “You’re okay.” She turns her big, blue eyes on the draenei. “Wow, you’re _HUGE_. How did you get in the door?”

Eophen cannot help laughing. “I ducked.”

Taveth laughs and ruffles Diori’s hair. “This is Eophen. He’s been helping us on Argus.” He kneels, grinning wide at the little girl. “Hey, I have a surprise for you. Would you like to come to Dalaran for a special Pilgrim’s Bounty feast?

“Nice to meet you!” Diori’s eyes then light up and she throws her arms around Taveth’s neck. “Yes!” She pulls away to look at him curiously. “What kind of surprise?”

Tyndra’s eyes do the same and she tightens with excitement. “You’re having a PB feast? Can I come? I’ll buy a pie!”

Taveth widens his eyes at his sisters in turn. “It’s a you have to wait, kind of surprise,” he says to Diori. “And you should probably ask—”

“I suppose less mouths this year isn’t a disaster. But _all_ of you will be home for Winter Veil. Understood?” Falren casts his stern gaze on the three elves. “Say hello to Ervaen for me,” he says to Tyndra.

Diori pouts at the aspect of having to wait. “Okay, fine. Will Ali be there? Is she better yet?”

Tyndra nods and waves to her father. “I will!” She turns to tug at both Taveth’s and Eophen’s shirts. “Let’s go already! I gotta get a pie before the shop closes!”

Eophen chuckles, unmoving. “I like this family more and more.”

Taveth can’t help but grin to himself at the draenei’s words. His gaze fixes on Diori. “She will be there. I promise. And she’s feeling much better.” He takes her hand and leads the group from the house. “To the pie shop, then. Lead the way.”

~ * ~

Anarchaia blinks back into existence, then stops when she does not see Taveth or Eophen. “Oh. Uh. Ervaen is the only tavern or inn or...anything with room for a party. Apparently there's a basement. Heh.”

Koltira pushes away from the wall he was leaning against. “Let’s go set up.” He leans close to mutter to her, “Don’t leave me alone like that. It was uncomfortable.”

Anarchaia gives a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t think they’d leave you here right away.” She slides her hand into his. “We don’t need much. Just to supply our own food. Can you cook?”

“I’ll make you any dessert,” Alisbeth says as she stands. “Just ask!” She pulls on the demon hunter's hand to follow the others.

Grimory follows as well after throwing coin on the table, being sure to keep Alisbeth at a considerable distance.

Koltira makes a face. “I _can_ cook, yes. I do know the traditional Pilgrim’s Bounty dishes from when I actually participated—all but the desserts, sadly. But I’ll need help from the living on anything requiring smell or taste.” He smiles charmingly down at her. “So it’s your fault if anything burns.”

Anarchaia smiles up at him. “Well it’s a good thing desserts are my specialty.” She leans a shoulder on him and puts on an airy, playful tone. “I keep finding reasons to think we were made to find one another.”

Koltira smirks and kisses the top of her head. “I don’t need reasons, I just need how you make me feel.”

Alisbeth stops in her tracks and tugs at Grimory’s hand, her eyes wide and fixed on the mage ahead of them. “Tell me again that you believe in me. That I can do it.”

The mage blushes and smiles up at him from the corner of her eye. “I need that, too. C’mon.” She pulls him toward the staircase once they enter the tavern.

Grimory watches the two ahead of them go and pauses to turn Alisbeth to face him, hands on her cheeks. ::You can do this. She’s your friend, remember? She’s had so many chances to hurt you and she hasn’t, yeah? Do it for Diori.::

Alisbeth closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “For Diori. I can do this.”

Grimory nods and waves to Ervaen as they pass. ::Why don’t you...help Ana with the desserts? For practice. I’ll help Kolt make some food that actually tastes good.::

Alisbeth grips his hand as he leads her into the kitchen. She stops and stares at Anarchaia as though petrified. “D-desserts,” she sputters after a while.

Koltira eyes the mage and death knight in turn. “If you think you can…handle it. Wash your hands.”

She does as she’s told, reaching the sink by giving the mage a wide birth.

He painstakingly washes his hands, then searches for all the cookware he needs. “Did he say if this place is stocked, or am I making a food run? Or are you stealing some from somewhere else?”

Anarchaia looks over after conjuring a mass of ingredients that slam into the table in a heavy heap. “Hm? Oh, uh...the latter.” She dusts her hands off on one another and grabs the flour, sugar, eggs and butter, then stops when she sees Alisbeth at the sink. “O-oh. Are you, uh...are you helping? ...me?”

Grimory cringes at the dialogue behind him as he washes his hand in a separate basin, then reaches for a knife and whetstone.

~ * ~

Once that group have procured a couple of pies from the shop near town square, they are led by an excited Diori back to the Dalaran portal. She drags Taveth by his sleeve toward their family’s tavern. “Come on! They’re probably already eating!”

Tyndra blinks over at her brother. “Is Kel’ori coming? She is here, isn’t she?”

Taveth chuckles. “I doubt it. Ana was finding a location when I left.” Inside the tavern, he leans over to speak with his brother. “Can Diori wait here while I go find my friends?”

Ervaen gives Diori a rare smile and leans over the bar to pinch the tip of her nose. “They’re downstairs, as it were. I said they could use the banquet room today.”

Diori bounces excitedly. “Ali too?”

He nods. “Ali, too.”

“Thanks,” he says to Ervaen. He takes Diori’s hand again and leads her downstairs, making sure the others are still following. “Stand here. No peeking.”

Diori grunts and covers her eyes with her hands. “Okay, but hurry.”

Taveth leans around the side of the doorway and clears his throat. “Drop your sharp implements, please.” He stares pointedly at Grimory.

Alisbeth grins widely. “Is she here?”

Koltira moves out of the path the girl will have to take and starts preparing foods with the ingredients provided.

Anarchaia’s jaw tightens and she turns to busy herself near the ovens, instead.

Grimory blinks and lowers the knife slowly back onto the table.

“Okay, you can go in,” Taveth says.

Diori steps through the doorway into the kitchen, then lights up at the sight of Alisbeth. She takes a cautious step forward. “Ali! How are...” Her eyes widen at the demon hunter in the corner, then well with tears. “I-is it really you?” she squeaks, then runs forward to throw herself into his arms, sobbing. “You’re alive! And you aren’t a big, scary monster!”

Grimory blinks, brow furrowing as he returns the embrace. He looks up at the others with irritation in his eyes, then presses her head into the crook of his neck and smiles, nodding.

Alisbeth frowns at being passed for a hug. The furrow between her brows deepens at the girl’s comments. “Did you have a nightmare about Grim? Was it scary? He’s perfectly fine, though, see?” She smiles eagerly at her daughter while nodding insistently.

Koltira’s eyes widen at the girl, then at Taveth.

“U-uh, Ali! Come with me a minute to see if Kel wants to join us?” He grits his teeth on a strained smile. “Tyndra, why don’t you meet everyone? Eophen, you can stay or come with, if you like.” His smile softens at the draenei.

Eophen returns the gentle smile. “I think I should stay and assist with preparations. Perhaps cook something my family enjoys. ...or something close.” He eyes the raw turkey on the table curiously.

Alisbeth clenches her fists and stomps to Taveth. “_Fine_. I’ll just spend time with Diori when we _get back_, then.” She follows Taveth as he heads back up the stairs.

Koltira purses his lips. “Ana, would you like to explain it, or should I?”

Diori looks between each person as they speak, confusion apparent in her eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, sweetie,” Anarchaia says quietly, bending at the waist to smile down at her. “Hey, why don’t you help me bake the cake, okay?” She takes the girl by the hand and she reluctantly follows. Anarchaia looks at Koltira. “Perhaps you should...”

Grimory tilts his hips and folds his arms expectantly as Anarchaia and Diori make their way back toward the sink in the opposite corner of the room.

Koltira purses his lips, not having actually expected being the one to tell the demon hunter. He eyes the elf with the magenta hair, then steps closer to the demon hunter. “Short version, you died. On Argus. In Kel’ori’s arms. You saved her life and she’s been a mess ever since. So, fair warning, she might lose her shit when she gets here. And the, uh, monster thing. I got drunk and found Diori hiding at the range. I, uh, promised her I’d try to make it better.” He steps back slightly to prepare for being struck. “I raised you…but Spinewing came. He tore apart the city trying to get to Kel’ori, and I had to…kill you again.” He slides his thumb across his own throat and grimaces. “Sorry.” He makes to turn away, then turns back. “Oh, and Alisbeth lost her mind entirely. So, there was that. Scared the hell out of Diori and Ana. She kept singing and wouldn’t respond to her own name. So,” he makes his voice loud enough for the girl to hear, too, “I think we should avoid telling Ali what happened so that she doesn’t start screaming and dangling from chandeliers like a monkey, again. Agreed?” He smirks kindly at Diori.

Grimory’s verdant eyes widen at the word _raised_ and his slit pupils thin to slivers. He hears very little beyond that, his fists tightening against his biceps.

Diori nods understandingly, then jumps and cries out when the Illidari, as expected, punches Koltira full force into the face while he’s distracted.

Anarchaia echoes the noise and quickly covers the girls eyes. “Grim!” she cries angrily before setting Diori aside and going to Koltira.

The demon hunter scowls furiously, ignoring the girls and Tyndra when she gasps and spins into the other room as though she hadn’t seen. ::What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!::Koltira straightens. “Yeah. I deserved that. But I only did it because she wanted her father back, and it didn’t look like that was going to happen. And, believe it or not, I missed you, too.” He turns away and gets back to the food he’s preparing, only somewhat acknowledging the mage’s presence.


	47. Chapter 47

Taveth leads Alisbeth to the small hut he knows exists but has never visited. He rings the bell and waits as Alisbeth fidgets.

“Is Diori having nightmares?” she asks.

“I’m sure it was just the one.”

The door opens and Docra stares blankly at them. “Take her.”

“Beg pardon?” Taveth asks, stepping inside.

“She snores now. Her nap ruined my sleep.”

“If I could teleport to the Hall, I would,” Kel’ori grouches.

Alisbeth blinks at the mage and stares conspicuously at her rounded belly. “You got fat. Fast.”

Kel’ori scowls. “I assume it’s because it’s half d— Wait, you’re—”

“Here to get you, yes!” Taveth interjects. “Come. Let’s go. Pilgrim’s Bounty and all.”

“That’s _today?_ I can’t face father like this!”

He holds up his hands to calm her down. “It’s fine. We’re having a small party here. Diori and Tyndra are here from Stormwind, Eophen Is joining us… Would you like to…?” he looks at the priestess.

“Oh! Yes. Docra is my guest.”

“No, I’m not,” the priest drones from her sink.

“I’ll buy you coffee,” the mage insists. “Black. Just like you like it! You wouldn’t pass up free food, would you?”

She sighs and smooths her hands down the length of her black bodice. “I suppose I wouldn’t.” She grabs her black parasol and practically sweeps all of them out the door. “Keep it safe, Ivory. I’ll bring you something.”

The black cat _mrows_ and leaps into the carpeted tower under the window.

Taveth looks the woman over and blinks at her usually snow-white skin now darkening to an ashy-blue, and her eyes now a paling teal color. “I don’t mean to pry, but—”

“I’ve joined with like-minded people. I’m going through a process to become like them. You don’t need to know any more than that.”

He nods and leads them back to the tavern.

Taveth stops in the doorway. “What happened? Why does everyone look tense?”

Beside him, Kel’ori screams in shock, then rushes into the room to hug Grimory. “Oh, my gods, you’re back! I’m so happy!”

Alisbeth makes a face. “Why does he get all the hugs? I like hugs, too.”

Taveth reaches over and gives her a quick hug. “Better?”

Docra blinks, her eyes flicking to each person. “I’ll be in the bar.” She goes upstairs and sits in a solitary corner.

Ervaen makes his way over to the dark little table as all his barmaids are currently helping others. “Good afternoon. Can I get you anything?”

Docra gives the faintest of nods. “Coffee. Black… With vodka.”

Grimory, still agitated, scoffs. He tenses, however, at the sound of Kel’ori’s voice. Silently he clears his throat before hesitantly returning the embrace. ::Y-yeah. Hey.::

Diori runs over to Alisbeth when she sees her again and is certain she is how she once was. “Grim hit Koltira,” she whines, hugging Alisbeth’s arm.

Alisbeth purses her lips and pulls the girl close. “Did Kolty deserve it?”

Anarchaia sighs after fussing over the side of Koltira’s face, despite being ignored. She scowls over at him. <<That was highly unnecessary,>> she scolds in Darnassian. <<He was only trying to cheer your daughter up. She missed you. _We_ missed you. I suggest you apologize the second you have the opportunity.>> She narrows her eyes when he mouths something she cannot read. “Whatever. Just…butcher that rabbit.”

Tyndra gives a quiet chuckle from the back of the group. “Tav, are your friends always this exciting?”

Taveth slips past to go to where his sister refuses to release Grimory. “Apparently, we’re not telling Ali, so…”

“Okay,” she says, but doesn’t let go.

Taveth then turns to his other sister. “Uh… A little bit, I suppose? The marriage drama was less violent, I think?”

“Nope,” Koltira snaps from the counter.

“It was more violent, actually,” Anarchaia mutters and returns to her table near the ovens, conjuring an apron to tie around herself as she does so.

Tyndra gives another quiet titter. “Maybe Father will let me go with you guys on your next mission.” She turns into the dining area to rummage through the cabinets for the plateware to set the tables.

Grimory takes Kel’ori gently by the shoulders and pries her from him. He pauses uncomfortably as he looks down at her. ::Uh…how are you?::

Kel’ori wipes her eyes and furrows her brow. “I can’t understand you.”

“Read his lips!” Alisbeth insists as she takes Diori to the ingredients. She grabs sugar and flour and finds her own counter space to work at.

Eophen clears his throat. “Taveth. Perhaps you can assist me in identifying these herbs.” He points to the swag hanging overhead alongside the pots and pans.

After the demon hunter repeats himself slowly, the mage nods some. “I’m okay. Better now. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Taveth clears his throat loudly. “Kel, why don’t you help Koltira over there. Your dressing was always fantastic.”

She jumps. “Oh. Um. Okay.” She stands beside the death knight, tentatively grabbing at ingredients to add to the mixture he’s already started.

“Don’t talk about it in front of Ali,” Koltira whispers. “We don’t know how she’ll react.”

The high elf nods in sudden understanding. “Oh! That makes sense.”

Once the situation is sorted, Taveth looks up at the herbs. “It’s…dangerous,” he says to Tyndra. “By all rights, I’m not equipped for that environment.” He begins pointing out each herb and naming them for the draenei.

Kel’ori turns to look over her shoulder, casually hiding her belly from her younger sister. “You never know when a situation can go completely wrong. Friends can…turn on you.” She eyes the demon hunter, but her look is apologetic instead of accusing.

Grimory can’t help but send a quick glance to Kel’ori’s stomach before turning. He takes up his cleaver again and sets to skinning and butchering a couple rabbits.

Alisbeth glances at Anarchaia as she listens to her cousin. Slowly she sidles up beside the undead woman, her hands balled into fists and her gaze on the counter instead of on her. “You were my friend.” She freezes, her face pinched in sad contemplation over what to say next.

Anarchaia tenses as well. She clears her throat as the whisk beats the eggs, butter, and sugar on its own. “I still am.”

Tyndra shrugs from the other room. “I could handle myself! I’m really sneaky, you know!”

Kel’ori gives a small laugh. “You? Sneaky? I’m sure.”

“I stole your brush that one time,” Tyndra says in an airy tone as she places goblets at each setting. “You didn’t find out for almost a whole hour.”

Kel’ori narrows her eyes. “You said Diori took it…”

Tyndra giggles and stands in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back as she totters teeters on her heels. “And you believed me,” she teases with a grin.

“How could I not? She was always in my room!” She sticks her tongue out at the little girl across the room.

Eophen chuckles and sniffs each herb as it’s identified. He places some rosemary and thyme inside a small game hen and ties the legs together. He points at a bowl of lemons. “These?”

“Lemons,” Taveth says. “They’re very sour.”

Eophen mimics the word absently. “Oh! Uhm. Alcohol. We cook with alcohol. You do that here?”

“Cooking wine?” Taveth asks. “Or something more robust? Sometimes we use bourbon or even whiskey. For today, though, wine would be more appropriate. I can get a good bottle of red from upstairs, if you like.”

Eophen nods. “Whatever you think will be best with this…fowl.”

Alisbeth sets a stiff, tentative hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Okay. Friends.” Without realizing it, she slowly squeezes harder the longer her hand is on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m glad. I’m glad we’re still friends. What are you making?”

Anarchaia winces but does her best not to show the growing pain she’s in. “C-cakes. Small ones. With icing. You can make the icing i-if you’d like,” she says through grit teeth, sliding the icing sugar toward her.

Diori pulls on Alisbeth’s shirt. “I wanna help.”

Alisbeth releases the mage and turns to grin at Diori. “Yes! Architecture needs help with the frosting. Would you like to help with that? You can be in charge of the taste test!” She smiles over at the mage. “Do you have a recipe you like?”

Anarchaia forces a smile in the presence of the girl. She pushes flour and vanilla toward them as well. “I’m partial to buttercream.”

Diori bounces. “Me, too!” She grabs for the sugar and measuring cups.

Taveth sets his hand on the draenei’s bicep for a quick moment. “You’re the chef. I’ll grab some and you can decide.” He goes up the stairs and waves to get Ervaen’s attention. “I need wine.”

Ervaen looks up from his conversation with the priest in the corner, own cup of coffee steaming in his hand. He gestures over to the wine rack. “Take the oldest open one, please.”

Grimory finishes with his rabbits and arranges them in a cast iron pot. He throws in some whole potatoes, carrots, and stock before placing the lid on and sliding it into the flames of the oven and closing the door. He wipes his hands off on a kitchen towel and goes to inspect Eophen’s work.

The draenei perks and smiles. “What do you suggest?”

The Illidari points to the lemons, then a dish of butter. Eophen nods and gets to slicing the fruit.

Taveth gives his brother a strange look, then eyes the bored-looking priest. He eyes the rest of the patrons, then looks at his brother again. “Everything under control up here?”

“He said to take the oldest bottle,” Docra says.

“I’ll…do that.” He gets the wine and returns downstairs.

Ervaen blinks slowly as his brother leaves then tilts his head back toward Docra. “Siblings.”

The priestess blinks. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, Grim. I, uh, got this.” Taveth holds it out as though unsure which man he should give it to.

Grimory nods, pours a good amount of the alcohol into a baking dish, places the bird inside, then pours the rest over the top. He points to the lemons and Eophen places them on top along with the butter, then slides the dish into the second oven.

Anarchaia sighs and turns to look at Alisbeth. “Look, Ali. I’m sorry I lied. B-but can you blame me? The first night we meet, Koltira told me about…how you feel. I couldn’t tell you.”

Alisbeth frowns and busies herself with measuring, doing her best to only glance at the mage out of the corner of her eye. “I…suppose that makes sense. I don’t forgive you.” She pauses. “At least not yet.” She smiles as she looks down at her daughter. “I’ll get a bowl.”

Anarchaia sighs and lifts her hands. “Fine.” She conjures her own bottle of wine and tosses the cork into the fire before downing most of the contents. The bowl she’s working on tips itself into a muffin tin.

Diori nods. “Okay! Can we do sprinkles?”

“Of course we can,” Alisbeth says.

Once the dishes are all cooking in the ovens, Kel’ori goes and sits in the dining room. “When do we get to eat it all?”

“When it’s done,” Koltira says. He leans against the wall near Anarchaia.

~ * ~

It’s not long before Grimory exits the kitchen with the basted rabbits he’d prepared arranged neatly, but not artistically, on a platter. Diori assists him by bringing out a large bowl of salad and vegetables.

Eophen trails behind with his dish of drunken game hens and sets it on the table looking rather proud of himself. “It smells good. I think that is a good sign, yes?”

Anarchaia nods and chuckles, running a finger along the opening of her bottle of wine. “It’s one of the criteria, yes.”

Taveth pulls out a chair and looks expectantly at Eophen. “It smells fantastic. I’m sure it’s great.”

Tyndra runs her tongue over her upper lip and takes up a spot beside her sister. “This looks great,” she uncorks a bottle of champagne she’d covertly stolen from upstairs and begins pouring as many glasses as the bottle will allow. “Don’t tell Erv.”

Kel’ori smiles her thanks but pushes the glass away from herself. “I’ll get some juice from upstairs. I think Docra’s up there anyway.” She does her best to keep her cloak over herself as she stands, knowing eventually it’ll come up, but hoping to delay it as long as possible.

The death knights each find seats, Alisbeth yanking Grimory down beside her.

The Illidari takes Kel’ori’s glass and pours it into his own. He smiles at Alisbeth before smirking at the mage across from him. ::No boyfriend?::

Anarchaia’s lips tighten. “You know I don’t understand you.” She sips her wine.

Koltira sighs and switches seats to sit by Anarchaia. “I was saving you a seat. Didn’t know you had one in mind.” He works his jaw and presses his fingers to it as the soreness from the hit sets in.

Anarchaia blinks up at him and smiles. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you brooding in the shadows.” She lifts a hand to turn his face toward her with her fingertips. “Are you all right?” she asks quietly.

Koltira nods. “I’m fine. Just sore. I’ll be better after a dangerous amount of drink.”

Anarchaia grins and sets her bottle of red on the table for him to share. “Anything else can I do to help?”

He purses his lips and pretends to think. “Kiss it,” he demands, pointing at his jaw.

Anarchaia gives a small smile and places a peck on the spot. “All better?” she says with a smirk. “Or should I call a nurse?”

Koltira narrows his eyes, pretending to think on it. “One more and it should be good.”

Anarchaia’s eyes roll beneath her mask and she gives the area another kiss. “Any more and I’ll have to charge you.”

“No. I think that is satisfactory,” Koltira says.

Anarchaia smirks. “Are you broke? Is that it? Or are my services not worth paying for?”

Koltira grimaces. “Maybe I just don’t like when you make yourself sound like a prostitute?” He leans away, eyes pleading with her to not hit him.

Anarchaia straightens and scowls, then breaks down into chuckles. “That was the joke, you dork. But if you’d like me to add to your growing collection of bruises…” She playfully raises a fist.

“Maybe later,” he whispers in her ear.

The mage blinks and lowers her hand. “Oh, that’s right. You’re into that.” She gives a sheepish smile. “I…could humor you sometime.” Her smile grows reserved. “Probably literally.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure I’d love it either way.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Anarchaia mutters quietly and takes a drink of wine.

Eophen shreds a small portion of a hen and tastes it for himself. His golden eyes glimmer before he swallows. “How have I lived my entire life without this?” He slices the hens into portions and takes some for Taveth, handing it over. “I may not go back.”

Taveth grins to himself. “I wouldn’t mind that.” He tries a bite of the hen and his lavender eyes widen. “Oh, wow. You actually did an amazing job.”

Eophen flushes and gives an embarrassed chuckle. “I cannot take all the credit.” He gestures to the demon hunter. “I had some help.” He sits beside the scholar.

Diori skips back out of the kitchen with a plate of cakes she’s neatly decorated herself, complete with sprinkles and edible glitter. She places it carefully upon the table. “Do they look good?”

Alisbeth claps at the girl. “They look great! I bet they taste great, too. Go ahead and ha— Wait. After dinner? Right Tav?”

The high elf takes his eyes from the draenei beside him and blinks. “Hmm? What? I don’t care. Whatever you think is best.” He smiles back up at the man. “Do you do much cooking? I admit I…read about it more than I actually do it.”

Eophen gives a tentative shrug and swallows his bite of carrot. “When Mother died, Uulora and I took care of meals. I know a thing or two but I am no chef.”

Alisbeth grins deviously to the girl. “Take a bite now and tell me!”

Diori gasps with excitement and shoves half of a whole cake into her mouth. She hums in approval while chewing. “You and mask lady are good cooks.” She holds up a second for Alisbeth and Grimory. “Try!”

The demon hunter waves a hand. ::Sweets aren’t my thing, yeah?::

Alisbeth frowns at the sweet. “I can try, but I’m not sure I’ll taste anything.” She takes the smallest of bites and makes a face. “Tastes like sweet dirt.” She hands it back and laughs. “More cakes for you!”

Taveth jumps as he realizes what is happening outside of his conversation with Eophen. “D-Diori! Sweets _after _dinner.”

“You said I could decide,” Alisbeth says on a pout.

“That’s what you were talking about? And no one stopped—” He rubs a hand down his face. “Diori, why don’t you try some of this bird? Eophen made it. And get— You know what—excuse me Eophen—let me make you a plate.” He stands and takes a little from each dish, then sets it in the empty spot beside Grimory. “At least half of everything, little miss. And don’t you dare hide it in the napkin. Grim is watching you.”

Diori looks up at her father as he’s addressed, then giggles at the smile he gives. She climbs into her seat and takes a small bite. “Mm!” She looks at Eophen. “You’re a good cook!”

The draenei flushes. “I really am not. Heh.”

Taveth smiles up at the man beside him. “No, you really are. Maybe you should get a place in Stormwind just so I can come over for dinner.” He retains the innocent smile, though the implied other meaning creeps into the back of his mind.

Eophen gives the elf beside him an amused grin. “You know that is not a bad idea. My sister would be thrilled as well.”

Taveth’s smile grows wider. “Please tell me it’s not just an idea you’re only going to entertain for a while. I know of some nice places you could stay—apartments or even some houses. Any size you like, but the cost goes up, of course.” He blushes and turns away to shove food into his mouth to keep him from blithering more.

Eophen blinks at the elf’s enthusiasm, then chuckles and takes a sip of water. “We will see how our adventures go.”

Alisbeth leans against Grimory and rests her head in the swirl of his horn. “I’d love that. Just have a house. Kill animals and cook them. Just the three of us.” She glances at the girl and grins. “But I’d need to be alive so I could eat, too.”

Grimory’s eye twitches some at the pressure of his horn being pushed, but he nods all the same and places a hand on her thigh.

Diori blinks over at her mother, mouth full of sweet potato. “Can’t a healer make you alive again? I heard High King Anduin can resurrect people…”

Alisbeth stares down at Diori. “He can’t do that… Can he? I mean. I… He wouldn’t do that for _me _anyway… If he could.” She gives a nervous laugh and frowns, knowing her heart is giving into false hopes.

Diori shrugs. “I bet he would. He’s really nice.” She sneaks a bite of Grimory’s cake and the Illidari pretends not to notice.

~ * ~

Ervaen looks up as his little sister now approaches and a flicker of irritation crosses his eyes. “Yes, Kel?”

“Can I get some juice? Non-alcoholic. They only brought wine and…such.” She sets a palm on Docra’s shoulder. “Also the food’s ready.”

The priestess blinks. “About time. It’s been over an hour.” She stands and nods at the man. “You didn’t have to keep me company that whole time.”

Kel’ori’s smile strains the littlest bit as she widens her eyes on her brother. “Whole time? When was the last time you spent that much time with a patron that wasn’t Thassarian?” She leans over to hiss. “_And female._”

Ervaen purses his lips in the slightest of ways but otherwise remains unfazed. “Hardly any of your business. There’s juice in the icebox. Enjoy your meal.”

Docra looks between the two, then sighs. “It’s okay, Mr. Nightheart. Your company was not terrible, so I have no complaints. Kel’ori is probably just bitter seeing a man flirt with a woman, knowing men typically don’t flirt with pregnant women.” She turns for the stairs. “See you down there.”

Kel’ori’s eyes go wide and she freezes in place as her face turns a dark shade of embarrassed red. “J-juice. Thanks. Bye.” She clutches her cloak about her and rushes to the icebox.

Erevan’s eyes widen. “Preg—?! Kel, hold on.” He pushes from his chair to follow her behind the counter. “What did she mean by that?” he hisses quietly.

Kel’ori stops, her lips pressed to a thin line and her eyes squinted shut. “I don’t like to talk about it, but Docra doesn’t think it’s healthy to just ignore it and I’m pretty sure she’s just getting back at me for something. Don’t worry about it, right? Okay. I’m getting the juice now. Bye!” She tries her best to slip away from him gracefully, but hiding the growing mound beneath her cloak hinders the effort.

Ervaen grabs Kel’ori’s cloak in a fist. “Kel’ori, this is serious! Who’s the father?! Have you told our father?!”

“No I _haven’t _told father. I haven’t told _anyone. _But it’s not like I can hide it anymore.” She pulls her cloak back to reveal a belly that would indicate six months of pregnancy. “It was Spi— A demon. On Argus…” Her chin quivers, but she squares her shoulders. “And I’m keeping it. Docra convinced me to.” She wipes away a tear that rolls down her cheek. “Now, can I have that juice? Please?”

Ervaen’s eyes widen further. “Dem— Keep— What?! Kel’ori, no. You can’t. How even—? No.” He runs a palm over his mouth and beard. “You need to tell father.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and gets in Ervaen's face, looking up into his eyes to make sure he’s listening to her. “You have no say in what I do, brother. I didn’t have a choice before, but I have one now. _My _child is not at fault for what that monster did. _My _child will not be anything like those demons. I will tell father in my own time—probably soon, though, because I don’t think this baby is on a normal timeline. Obviously.” She takes a breath and calms down. “Would you like to…go with me when I tell him? I’m probably going to take Docra. She’s been my rock. I love her so much—not like that,” she adds quickly.

Ervaen scowls as he’s reprimanded, but cannot help sobering when she calms and requests his presence. He sighs. “You know I will. But you should know that this isn’t a good idea.”

Kel’ori’s lips pucker in annoyance. “Show me another time this has happened and I’ll take your advice. But trust me, I have…other demons…helping. Nice ones. Kind of. They’d have told me, but like I said, if you can prove this is a bad idea then I’ll happily rid myself of—” She stops as though frozen in time. Tears pool and roll from her eyes and she presses her palm into her mouth to cover a surprised gasp.

Ervaen blinks, then knits his brow in the slightest of ways. “What? What’s the matter?” He sets a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Kel’ori wipes at her eyes and takes a breath, a wide smile on her face. “It moved, Erv. It’s never done that before. Oh my gods, there’s a living thing inside me.” She has to wipe her tears away again. “My baby is moving. _Mine_. Okay. I’m late. I’m hungry. I’m getting the juice and going downstairs. Maybe you can come down later and try your best moves on Docra.” She waggles an eyebrow and makes for the icebox again.

Ervaen watches her, a mixture of sympathy and disgust on his normally cool features. “Kel… What if this kills you?” he asks quietly. “You don’t know what’ll happen.”

Kel’ori frowns. “What if it doesn’t? I’ll be fine. Now, excuse me, I’m late.” She takes her juice and storms down the stairs.


	48. Chapter 48

Docra sweeps into the dining room and finds the last two open seats. “I was waiting for Kel’ori, but I think I may have caused drama with her brother. She started it, though.”

Diori looks up at Docra. “What happened? Is it about the baby?”

Grimory does his best not to let the word faze him and merely washes his bite of salad down with his drink, throat suddenly dry.

Tyndra smirks over at her brother. <<Oh. I think I see what’s going on,>> she titters in Common.

Taveth blushes more furiously. <<Eophen is a _friend. _Who has no real home. I’m just trying to be helpful.>>

Tyndra lifts a brow, smirk growing. “Mmhm. Whatever you say.”

Taveth makes a subtle face at her across the table.

Docra blinks at the small girl. “Hello, young Nightheart. Yes. It is about the baby. And about how she’s not telling anyone when she can’t even hide it anymore. Pass me some rabbit.”

Taveth’s ears pull back. “Did you tell Ervaen?”

“Not directly, no. She embarrassed him, so I embarrassed her. Balance has been maintained.”

Diori nods as though she understands. “If Krory has a baby will it be my nephew or my cousin?”

::Cousin,:: Grimory mouths down to her. ::Second cousin.::

Docra samples some of the food she’s been passed, nodding at some, but otherwise giving no praise or indication if she enjoys anything in particular. “I believe she’s choosing to keep it. If she was going to change her mind, she should have done it a lot sooner.”

Grimory’s grip on his knife tightens and his eyes sizzle. He stands abruptly. ::Air,:: he mouths and makes his way toward the stairs.

Diori watches him go and looks up at Alisbeth. “He gets mad quickly. I can tell ‘cause his eyes do the thing when he is.”

Alisbeth frowns, her eyes wide. “Stay here.” She pats Diori’s head and runs after the demon hunter.

Diori nods, then frowns after she’s left alone.

Anarchaia sighs when Grimory and Alisbeth walk off. “We’re never going to get a chance to go around and say what we’re all thankful for if we’re all not ever here.”

“I can say it without other people around. I’m thankful for you. Every day. Every second.” Koltira slips his arm around her and pulls her and the chair closer.

The undead woman turns a deep shade of scarlet and cannot help smiling. “Awe, Kolt,” she whines, tears in an eye. She wraps her arms around him in return and rests her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m thankful for you, too. Not sure where I’d be without you. I love you.”

Eophen smiles over at the two, then down at Taveth. “Cute.” He gnaws off a small bite of rabbit. “I am thankful for meeting you. A-all of you.” He flushes. “And for what is left of my family.”

Diori hums. “I’m thankful for cake,” she says between bites.

Grimory stops in the stairwell as he nearly walks into Kel’ori. He pauses awkwardly and mutters a silent _excuse me_, then skirts around her to make for the door outside.

“Grim! Where are you going?” Kel’ori asks, then frowns as he runs past. “What’s going on?” she asks Alisbeth as she runs after the man.

“I don’t know. Your weird friend is downstairs. Bye.” She races after Grimory and catches him as he exits the tavern.

Kel’ori gets to the table and sits beside Docra, where the priest has already made a generous plate for the woman. “Do you have any idea what you started?”

The priestess shrugs. “Maybe you should have been a little nicer to him.”

Kel’ori’s mouth drops open in shock. “Do you _like _my brother?”

“I don’t like people, but I appreciate his prompt service. Eat a rabbit.”

“Well, I was going to, anyway. It smells delicious,” she says with a lot more sass than the subject warrants. “I’m thankful for…Taveth,” Kel’ori says. “I owe you more than you know.” She looks expectantly at the priestess.

Docra blinks. “Oh, I have to? Um. I’m thankful for doors that lock.”

Taveth shrinks in his seat as the attention falls to him. “I’m thankful for all of you.”

<<And _I’m _thankful for my handsomest master in the universe, Tavy-wavy!>> Tryxora shouts from the doorway to the kitchen. <<Sorry. I wasn’t going to chime in. Just watch. But it was too special and I wanted to tell you I love you and you’re amazing, master.>> She rushes in and grasps him in a hug that presses her chest against his neck.

“What are you doing here?” he grunts.

<<I figured out the hole! It was _not _easy to get here, like it was Argus. Now I can always be at your side.>>

“Kill me.”

Anarchaia titters into her fingertips at the two men, but her smile immediately falls at the sight if the succubus. “Ugh, poor Tav.”

Diori stares at the demoness, her chewing stopped. “Who’s that?”

Tryxora flits to the little girl and smiles. <<Hi again, little elf. I’m Tryxora. Call me Tryx.>> She goes around re-greeting every one, then giggles at the other Nightheart girl’s hair. She pats the top and moves on to the priestess.

Docra grabs the demon’s wrist as she reaches for her. Her fist lights up and Tryxora falls to the floor, screaming. “It has an over-time effect.”

Diori resumes chewing when the demoness falls to the floor, then shrugs and finishes her cake.

Eophen cringes. “Your minions are rather…erratic?”

Taveth pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s only her. She says hi to everyone. Tyndra, she likes your hair. Her name is Tryxora, but she likes to be called Tryx.”

Tryxora stands, cringing as she recovers from the use of Light on her. Kel’ori leans forward and pulls Tryxora down to whisper in her ear. The succubus thinks on it, then nods.

The mage smiles to herself, then looks to her sister. “Tyndra, what are you thankful for?”

Tyndra perks and swallows a mouthful of rabbit. “Uhhhhh, not being pregnant.” She grins at the glare she receives. “And my wonderful family, of course.”

“Makes one of us,” Anarchaia grumbles into the neck of the wine bottle.

Diori narrows her eyes over juice. “What did purple lady say to you?”

Kel’ori sneers in Tyndra’s direction. “Aren’t you clever.” She focuses on her food, her lips pursed. “Nothing that concerns you, Diori. Just eat your food.”

Diori makes a face, offended, and eats the rest of Grimory’s cake as well.

~ * ~

“Grim, what’s wrong?”

Grimory sighs and turns to look down at Alisbeth. ::I don’t want that child born. It’ll be a reminder of what happened. What…_he_…did. What happened to me.:: He pinches the bridge of his nose. ::I don’t even want to hear about it.::

She huffs. “Okay. Here’s the plan. We get her back to my place and we cut it out of her. Then you don’t have to hurt anymore. Problem solved.”

Grimory blinks and straightens. ::N-no! No. I just…:: He leans against the building and folds his arms. ::Wish she’d have considered how I’d feel.::

Alisbeth frowns and leans against him. “Did you ever talk to her about it? Maybe we can talk her out of it. If not, we’ll just tie her down and cut it out of her!”

Grimory gives her an unimpressed stare. ::We’re not cutting anyone open.:: His brow furrows and he scratches at the nape of his neck. ::I guess…we could try to convince her.::

Alisbeth nods. “I bet we could. Come on, let’s do it now.” She pulls him back toward the door. “You can finish eating, too.”

Grimory jumps and grabs Alisbeth before she can walk away. ::N-not right now! It would ruin the dinner. After, maybe. When the others are gone.::

Alisbeth pulls on him again. “Okay. After dinner. Let’s go eat and spend time with Diori!”

The demon hunter nods and follows her back to their seats downstairs. He clears his throat and downs the rest of the champagne in his glass.

“We went around and said what we are thankful for,” Anarchaia says from the opposite end of the table.

Grimory directs a smile down to Diori and ruffles her blond hair. ::I’m thankful for you.::

The little elf returns the smile and giggles, unsure of what he’s said but enjoying the attention.

Alisbeth frowns and studies the table.

Tryxora grabs the flailing Taveth in a hug, then makes her way upstairs. A few shouts echo back down to them. Ervaen furrows his brow at the demoness harassing his patrons and merely continues to polish the stein in his hands.

“You know what?” Taveth says, “I’m just gonna let her do that. As if she’d listen to me anyway.”

Kel’ori sets a hand on her belly and smiles down at it, then returns her attention to the others. “What is everyone planning after this?”

“Probably back to Ana’s place,” Koltira says.

“I’m going home and locking my door with you on the outside,” Docra says casually.

Grimory watches the elf mage smile endearingly down at herself, then sighs through his nose and leans back in his seat. He shrugs.

Anarchaia blinks. “O-oh. We’re not calling it _home_, anymore? Heh.”

Koltira blinks. “I was just making sure everyone knew which home I was talking about.”

Eophen thinks on it for a moment. “Taveth promised tours.”

Tyndra snerks. “I bet he did.”

Taveth blushes. “I’m being hospitable. He’s a guest on our planet.”

“_Mmhmmmm_,” Tyndra hums and reaches for a cake.

Diori thinks. “I have a class tonight. A special one. Then sleep.”

“What class do you have?” Alisbeth asks. She reaches around the demon hunter to push some hair behind the little girl’s ear.

Diori blushes and smiles. “We’re learning about power words tonight.”

~ * ~

Not long after dinner, the group works together to clean the dishes—made easier with the help of the mages. Taveth leads Tyndra, Eophen, and Diori back up the stairs, followed by Anarchaia and Koltira, mumbling more conversation until they part ways just outside.

Grimory sits back as the numbers dwindle. He waits until he receives his chance to place a gentle hand on Kel’ori’s shoulder, but not after ensuring Alisbeth is with him for support and translation. ::Can we talk?::

Kel’ori jumps at the touch, then laughs. “Hey, Grim! Are you…feeling okay? You left so fast earlier.”

“We need to talk to you,” Alisbeth blurts. “Grim wants to talk to you.”

Docra stops at the bottom of the stairs and eyes the mage.

“Oh! Sure. Of course. Go ahead, Docra. I’ll meet you up there.”

Grimory inhales, then releases it all slowly through his lips when the priest leaves. ::Please don’t keep this baby,:: he mouths, eyes pleading.

Kel’ori raises her eyebrows and looks to the death knight for help.

Alisbeth mimics Grimory’s breath and movements. “Please don’t keep this baby,” she says, the same look on her face as the man.

The mage narrows her eyes and waits as though it’s a joke. “N-no. No. First of all, you are the _last _person who can try to tell me what to do. Second, Docra says it would be cruel to do it now.” She squeaks and sets a palm to the side of her belly. “And third—” she grabs the demon hunter’s hand and yanks him closer, setting his fingertips to the little kicks inside. “It’s so strong. And it’s _mine_.”

Grimory’s brow knits in a mixture of fascination and disgust and he pulls his hand away. He shakes his head. ::No. I’m the _first_ person to tell you what to do. That child is mine, too, yeah? And it shouldn’t exist. It’s…:: His fists clench. ::A reminder. Of what happened. To me. To _us_.::

Kel’ori freezes as she listens to Alisbeth’s repeat of the message. After a moment to process, she reaches up and slaps the Illidari across the face. “All of you spent weeks telling me it wasn’t you. So guess what? It’s not yours. And yes, it reminds me of the actual worst day of my entire life. But it also reminds me that _I _don’t have to be the monster. My baby is innocent.” A tear rolls down her cheek.

“You might not think you’re not the monster, but that _thing _is,” Alisbeth insists. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to Grim?”

Grimory jerks, then stares at her as she speaks, hurt apparent in his eyes more than his features. ::I know it wasn’t me. But it’s my blood. And an embodiment of the second worst day of _my_ life.:: His face softens. ::Why would you want to remember that every day for the rest of your life?::

“It’s not about remembering,” Kel’ori says on a soft whine. “It’s about—”

“We can fix it for you” Alisbeth says. She grabs a huge chef’s knife from the knife block.

Kel’ori screams and backs into the corner, crying harder.

Grimory quickly steps between the two. ::A-Ali, no! No cutting. No violence, yeah?:: He sighs and looks over his shoulder at Kel’ori. Before he can articulate a thought, Ervaen skids to a halt as he rushes into the kitchen.

“What’s happened? Kel—” He narrows his eyes at the knife. “Ali…?”

Alisbeth smiles and waves with the knife. “Hi Ervaen! Everything’s fine. We’re just helping to get rid of the little monster.”

“It’s not, _it’s not. _You’re not touching me, or my baby.” A sphere of both fire and frost suddenly pops up and swirls around her as protection. Her face betrays her shock at the shield and she sets her hands over her belly.

Grimory takes a step away as though the barrier will no doubt hurt him. A look of disappointment seeps into his features and he shakes his head. ::Fine. Do whatever you want.:: He turns and grabs Alisbeth by the hand. He takes the knife from her before leading her back toward the stairs.

She runs alongside him, frowning. “I thought we were going to convince her.”

Grimory shakes his head and glares forward as they make their way back toward the lounge. ::I don’t care anymore. She’ll see the mistake she’s made when it’s born, yeah?::

Ervaen watches them go, then turns back to the bubble that Kel’ori is standing within. “What was that about?”

“That was about me being completely alone. Just another person telling me that keeping this child is a mistake. Just like you. And you wonder why I don’t tell anyone.” She straightens and wipes her face. “Docra urged me to keep it. Of all people.” She shakes her head and sighs.

Ervaen pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Kel, I’m sure Docra’s reasoning for you keeping it isn’t what you think it is.” He frowns at her. “You’re really being selfish about this.”

Kel’ori frowns and shakes her head in disbelief. “You know what? I think I _did _make a mistake. I don’t want you coming back to Stormwind with me. I don’t think I want you anywhere near my baby. Ever.” She stomps around him to the doorway, then spins to yell at him. “And stay the _hell _away from Docra. You obviously have _no idea _what kind of person she is. She is the only person not trying to remind me of what happened. Maybe she really doesn’t care about me, but at least she’s trying to make my situation suck a little less.”

Docra stands on the final step and stairs at the mage. “I’m leaving now. I’m locking the door behind me, so you might want to hurry up.” She fixes her gaze on Ervaen. “I was eaves dropping. I don’t care about anyone. And I told her the child is a scientific curiosity, and as the first of its kind we don’t know what it’s capable of, or even what it’ll look like. Am I the only one who finds that prospect intriguing?” She doesn’t wait for an answer but turns to head back up the stairs.

Ervaen slowly scowls up at her. “If you think you have any right telling me what to do, you have another thing coming little sister.” He watches Docra go, his scowl fading to a look of determination. “I guess I’ll be sending word to Father, then.”

Kel’ori shakes her head and clenches her fists. “If you do that, then you can tell him I’m not coming home.”

Docra gives Ervaen one last look. “I was wrong about you.”

“Consider it done.” The high elf man gives Docra a small shrug. “Whether that’s good or bad is rather irrelevant. I just care about my sister not dying.” He pulls a piece of paper from behind the counter along with a quill. His hand scribbles away with a ferocity no longer shown in his face. “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious what you were wrong about.”

“That you were a good man,” she says. She strides from the tavern with Kel’ori in tow.

Ervaen’s brow knits slightly. “I guess we were both wrong, then.” He seals the scroll with a melted wax cube and sets it side with the rest of the mail to be sent. “If my sister dies,” he says to no one, “you’ll be responsible.”


	49. Chapter 49

The earliest dawn light filters through the balcony doors of Alisbeth’s room, dulled by the beige curtain panels. She sighs at the light and turns to frown down at the sleeping demon hunter. She kisses his forehead and climbs out of bed. Quietly, she grabs a dagger and slips out the door.

It takes her a moment to catch her bearings and remember where the little hut is. She picks the lock with the dagger and lets herself in. On the couch she immediately sees Kel’ori’s blonde hair as the elf breathes in peaceful sleeping rhythm.

“Attacking a woman in her sleep,” Docra says from the doorway to the back rooms. “Not very noble.”

“You can’t stop me!” Alisbeth shouts, pointing the dagger threateningly.

The priestess doesn’t budge. “I could, actually. And with great ease. If I wanted to.”

She falters, remembering that it was this priest who’d used holy magic on her just as a dare. “Do you want to?”

“No.”

The death knight blinks in confusion. “Are you testing me?”

“No. Go ahead. Try your best.”

Grimory slowly opens his eyes; he sits up in a haze and rubs at one. ::Ali?:: He looks around, brow furrowed when he gets no response despite not actually saying anything. He stands and goes to the balcony, only to find the door open a crack. He frowns and gets dressed.

Alisbeth raises up the dagger over her sleeping cousin, her eyes locked on Docra. “I’ll do more than try.” She brings the dagger down.

A shield of ice covers the mage as a burst of purple light explodes outward from her, throwing the death knight backward through the front door, but leaving the priestess unharmed.

Docra sighs and folds her arms. “You’re replacing that door.”

“_Me? _She’s the one that blew me across the room!” She stomps back inside, kicking the broken wood indignantly.

“No. She’s not. The shops should be opening soon. Make sure you get a black one.”

She gapes at the woman, then at Kel’ori, who mumbles in her sleep before rolling over. “She always could sleep through the end of the world.”

Docra blinks at her and purses her lips. “Door.”

Alisbeth grumbles and stomps off back to the inn. “Oh, hi Grim,” she says dejectedly. “I’m just getting money. I have to replace a door.”

He blinks down at her, belt still in his hands mid-fasten. ::Uh…door? Where were you?::

Alisbeth freezes, a guilty expression on her face. “I went to kill the demon baby for you. Now I have to replace Dante’s door.” She inches toward the door as though trying to escape his possible wrath. “So…I’ll just go do that.”

Grimory furrows his brow, then grabs her by the upper arm. ::No. I…appreciate? You trying? But please don’t do that again, yeah?:: He runs a hand over his hair. ::I’ll help you pay for the door. And carry it. Okay?::

Alisbeth cringes. “Yeah… I don’t think anyone should be trying that.” She takes his hand. “How about I pay and you carry it and put it on? I’m the one that smashed through it, so it’s only fair.” She chews on her lower lip in thought as they walk. “I’d do it again for you, though. It’s not fair. I get that her life goal is to be a mom…but… This is just wrong.”

Taveth arrives at the little black house and stops in the doorway. “Um…?”

Docra lifts her tea to her lips, her back to the door as she sits on the couch across from Kel’ori. “It’s being replaced and your sister is still asleep.”

“O-okay… Um, I’m just getting everyone together. We have to get back to Argus.”

The priestess nods. “I’ll wake her soon. Why don’t you go get your big friend, instead?”

“Heh. Yeah. I’ll… Thank you.” He steps over the debris and returns to Greyfang Enclave, where he stands outside Eophen’s door trying to build his own courage, yet again.

Eophen opens the door before Taveth can even knock, then jumps as he nearly runs into the elf, giving a small noise of surprise. He flushes and clears his throat. “T-Taveth. Good morning.”

The high elf jumps and steps back. He gives a nervous laugh as he collects his thoughts. “I was afraid I’d wake you up. Sorry. Um, I just came to… We have to get back to Argus.” A smile toys at his lips. “And I also wanted to tell you I had a great time last night. I know I already told you, I just… I wish we could have more.”

Eophen nods, his smile wavering just the slightest bit. “Yes. I suppose. I had a good time yesterday as well.” He flushes the slightest bit. “But you are correct. There are more pressing matters. Let us go.”

Taveth grips his satchel, unable to help smiling some. “I do hope you stay on Azeroth. It would be…nice to have someone to spend time with.” The tips of his ears turn a dark shade of pink. “Though, I don’t usually leave the library except to go home or work my shift in the tavern.”

His cheeks darken slightly more and he chuckles. “I think once I am certain my family is safe back on the Vindicaar, or if I can convince them to come with, I would like to stay, yes.”

Grimory nods. The two find their way to the carpenter, purchase a door in the correct color, then bring it back to the quaint house on the outskirts of town. He blinks as a familiar elf meets them at the end of the road. ::Hey, Ervaen.::

The man nods. “Good morning.” He looks from the door to the empty frame. “I’m not going to ask.”

::Good.:: The Illidari sets to work resetting the door in its frame. ::Forgot nails,:: he silently grumbles.

Ervaen knocks on the doorframe. “I need to talk to Kel’ori.”

“She’s in the bathroom,” Docra says from her position on the couch. “She’s either taking her time or fell back to sleep in the tub.”

Alisbeth giggles. “I’d do that. That sounds fun. Grim, can I go—”

“Broom.” She points in the corner. “Clean up your mess.”

She grumbles and gets the broom, then mutters as she sweeps up the splinters.

“Ehm. What did I miss?” Taveth asks as he returns.

The draenei blinks at the group outside. “A party, perhaps?”

They arrive at Docra’s door and pause at the commotion.

Kel’ori exits the bathroom with a relieved sigh, then stops. “Why is everyone here?”

::Fixing a door.:: He looks at the priestess as he straightens. ::Do you have a few nine-inch nails?::

Ervaen holds in a sigh as he stands in the open doorway. “Kel, can we talk?” He pauses. “Like adults. In…relative privacy.”

Alisbeth repeats Grimory’s request and the priest stands. “I do have some from fixing my roof, actually.” She pulls out one of the boxes on her shelves and brings it over—it’s filled with various tools and nails and screws of various sizes. “You can use my room,” she says to Kel’ori.

Taveth shrugs. “Looks like…Grim has a new door.” He narrows his eyes as Alisbeth makes a pile of the broken door.

Grimory rummages through the box until he finds what he needs and finishes up with the door. He steps aside when Alisbeth sweeps near his feet.

Eophen chuckles at the situation. “Are you two coming with us?” he says to the death knight and Illidari.

He looks at Alisbeth. ::I don’t have much of a choice.::

“Why would we not? We were there two days ago, right?” she says.

Docra loudly shoves her metal dumpster from outside into the doorway, her eyes squinted tight at the morning light outside. Alisbeth flinches as though the woman might reach out and slap her as she passes, then begins picking up the bigger pieces to drop inside.

Taveth cringes as he laughs nervously. “Yeah. Of course you guys are going. Right?”

Grimory assists until the mess is cleared. He nods. ::Then yes. Though…it may be best if we all split up.::

Taveth furrows his brow at Alisbeth’s relay, then at the demon hunter. “Why?”

She sticks out her lower lip. “I don’t want to split up.”

Docra stands and moves in on the others’ personal space until they’re forced into the doorway. “Does it work?” She slowly shuts the door until they’re all outside, then she locks it. “Looks like it does.” She returns to the couch and pours herself a fresh cup of tea.

“Dorkus is mean,” Alisbeth says, then kicks the new door.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a tentative look as they turn back toward the center of town. ::Can you get along with Ana?::

Alisbeth grins up at the demon hunter. “We made cakes together! I told her I want to stay friends. It’s hard though because I also kinda want to kill her. But…you said you believe in me. So, if you’re there I’ll be fine.”

Taveth purses his lips. “I believe in you,” he says, trying not to sound so nervous.

Eophen gives a small nod, not fully understanding the issue but wanting to be supportive, nonetheless. “As do I.”

Grimory’s smile fades as they near the golden metal platform. ::Did you ever get a hearthstone?::

Alisbeth frowns. “Wait, we’re going _now?_ I need my stuff! I didn’t grab my…anything. I need armor!” She takes off running through the city, back to her room.

Grimory looks at the other two and shrugs. He points to himself, then to the ground, implying he’ll wait while they can go on ahead.

~ * ~

The mage leads her brother into the priest’s room and sighs, avoiding looking at him. “What did you want to talk about?”

Ervaen closes the door behind him. “I didn’t send the letter. Can we just talk about this reasonably?”

Kel’ori closes her eyes and mentally prepares herself for the conversation. “Okay. We can talk. But please don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ll have a whole team of healers follow me around, if you want. I already know three. Though…Docra’s Light magic hurts and I vomit… And I don’t think I want Gildwynn hanging around me anymore, it’s…awkward. The troll is really just _their _friend and she only speak troll.” She pauses, her eyes wide on her brother. “Am I getting ahead of myself?”

Ervaen nods slowly. “While my disapproval clearly means very little to you, it’s still your responsibility as a daughter to tell Father.” He finally sighs. “I’m still willing to be there for you when you do. For reasoning purposes. Not convincing purposes.”

Kel’ori frowns. “Yeah. I… You’re right. As usual.” She deflates. “Maybe I should do it before I run off to Argus? Father’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” Against her will, she begins to cry.

Ervaen wraps an arm about her shoulders and pulls her into a small hug. “It’ll be okay. Maybe.” He leads her back into the living room. “I’ll have Taveth watch the tavern until we get back.”

Kel’ori nods. “Yeah.”

Docra sets her teacup down as the two come out of the bedroom. “The door works now.”

“Oh, good,” the mages says tentatively. “What was wrong with it?”

“The death knight got blasted through it. Close it on your way out, please.”

Ervaen makes no sign of caring, closing the door on his way out, and wordlessly leads his sister all the way back to the Stormwind portal, then to their house. He lets himself in. “Father?” he calls up the stairs.

Falren appears at the top landing and smiles. “I didn’t think you two would be coming back before Christmas.” He goes and hugs each of them.

Ervaen gives his father a one-armed hug. “Yeah, well. Something’s come up.” He gives Kel’ori a look.

She fidgets as her father waits for her to speak up. “I…” She looks away, ashamed. “I’m pregnant.”

Falren hides his disappointment, but badly. “Who is the father?”

She flinches before saying it out loud. “A d-demon. It…attacked me.” A tear rolls from her eye and she wipes it away.

The man’s breathing grows harsh as he purses his lips and his face turns red. “Let’s get you to a healer, then. Take care of it.”

“N-no. I…I’m keeping—”

“_No, you’re not!_” Falren takes her by the arm and turns to Ervaen. “Go get us a discreet healer. We don’t need the entire damned city finding out about this.” He drags Kel’ori up the stairs.

The mage struggles against his grasp, crying harder. “No, Father! I want my baby! Erv! Help, please!”

Ervaen fidgets, torn between helping his sister and obeying his only parent. After a moment, he merely turns and leaves, closing the door quietly. He returns roughly half an hour later with a draenei woman in tow, black hair bouncing over her white robes. “Upstairs. Second door,” the elf mumbles and watches her ascend. Then, after a thought, he follows.

“H-hello,” the woman says nervously, having been briefed on the situation.

Kel’ori whimpers from the chair she’s tied to, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t hurt my baby.”

Falren growls. “That thing will kill you. You can’t have it. I won’t let you.” He nods to the draenei. “Do it.”

The woman, face stuck in a forlorn smile, steps forward with her staff. “I’m sorry,” she says kindly before placing a hand upon her round stomach. Light only briefly flashes beneath her palm before an explosion of ice, fire, and arcane energies forces all around Kel’ori back into the walls. Ervaen shakes the daze from his head, now clear across the hall and on the floor. The draenei woman mutters something in her native tongue, holding her head and covered in a now tattered bed curtain.

Kel’ori screams out in shock. “What was that? What did you do?”

“What did _you_ do?” Falren demands, holding his head as he pushes away from the wall beside the bed.

The priest scowls at Ervaen as she passes, still muttering all the way out the door. Said elf growls as he enters the room. “You didn’t have to do that, Kel. Are you trying to kill us?”

Kel’ori glares at her brother. “I didn’t do anything!”

Falren folds his arms and purses his lips. “That’s not funny, Kel’ori. Ervaen, get the healer back. We’re taking care of this one way or the other.”

The mage squints her eyes closed. “Please, no! Leave me alo—”

Falren blinks at the empty bed. “Where did she go?”

Ervaen sighs. “I’m willing to bet back to Docra’s.” He sits in a tattered chair and sets his head in his hands, more stressed than distressed. “I guess getting rid of it is out of the question.”

Falen growls then stomps off to his study and shuts himself in to brood over the subject.

Diori, having heard the commotion, comes out of her room and looks apprehensively down the hall before pulling on Ervaen’s sleeve. “What’s going on? What was all that noise?”

The man gives her a tired smile and brushes a lock of her hair away. “Nothing you need to worry about. Adult things. Go back to study, okay?”

The small elf nods and makes her way back toward her room, pauses, then purses her lips and knocks on Falren’s study door. “Papa?”

He looks up and casts a tired smile on the girl. “Yes, Diori? Is something wrong?”

She frowns. “I heard yelling. And an explosion. And Krory. Is she okay? You sounded mad.”

Falren urges the girl to come sit on his lap so he can hug her. “Kel is just in trouble, and we were trying to fix it. She doesn’t want us to, but it needs to be done. We just don’t want her getting hurt. You want your sister to stay safe, right?”

Diori nods slowly while frowning. “Is it about her baby? I think she should keep it…” She picks at her nails in her lap. “I want to be an auntie.”

The man sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s just…too dangerous. You can be an auntie another time. Run along and play, now. Okay? Don’t worry about all this.”

Diori ponders for a moment, then hops down and trots toward the door. She sticks out her lip defiantly as she turns. “I think it should be up to Kel.” She gives a small hmph! and returns to her room.

Falren sighs and puts his face in his hands. “If only it were that simple.”

~ * ~

Taveth and Eophen arrive on the Vindicaar. The high elf blinks up at him. “Would you like to have breakfast while we wait?”

The draenei grins down at the man beside him, then claps a hand on his narrow shoulder. “I thought you would never ask,” he says on a chuckle and steers him toward the mess hall. He smiles at the two already at their usual table. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Anarchaia says with a small wave.

Koltira an Taveth wave to each other, then the opposite companions.

“How was your night?” Taveth asks.

Anarchaia gives the death night a quick glance, flushing and waving a hand. “Oh. Nothing exciting. Same old. How about you two?”

Eophen smiles. “Taveth gave me a tour of your mage city. It is beautiful and rich with history.”

She nods. “It is.” She directs a smirk at Taveth.

He blushes back at the mage. “I’m going to get something to eat. Heh. Be right back.”

Once the elf is out of earshot, Koltira points a finger at the draenei. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that if you hurt him, I’ll cut you.”

Eophen lifts his eyebrows. “I-… Hurt?” He blinks, then gives a nervous smile. “Oh. He is my friend. I would not dream of it.”

Anarchaia gives a small titter and hits the death knight in the cuirass. “Stop, you’ll scare him off.”

Koltira chuckles. “I don’t think he’ll scare easy,” he says.

Eophen gives a quiet laugh as well and sits, then grows apprehensive at the tension.

Grimory leads Alisbeth into the dining hall, whispering You can do it. into her ear.

“I can do it,” Alisbeth repeats. “I can do it.” She bites her lips together as she looks down at Anarchaia. “Good morning, Apache.” Her forced grin ends up looking more like a grimace.

Anarchaia returns the grimace. “Good morning. Alisbeth. Grim. Heh.” She ever so slightly scoots back, into the elf beside her. “How are you two?”

::Quiet.::

Alisbeth awkwardly pets Anarchaia’s head. “I’m fine. Grim’s fine. We’re all fine. Right?”

Taveth returns with two trays and sits, blinking at the display. He sets one tray in front of Eophen and smiles shyly. “You didn’t follow, so I…guessed on what you might like. Heh.”

Anarchaia tenses as though Alisbeth’s next motion may be to strangle her again. “That’s…good.”

Grimory nods and pulls Alisbeth down to sit beside him.

Alisbeth sits on her hands and purses her lips against everything she’s tempted to do and say.

Koltira picks up the butter knife and makes a poking motion at the draenei, his lips puckered in a faux serious expression.

Taveth cocks an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Eophen flushes and gives a laugh. “I will eat most anything.” He criinges at the blunt stabbing, then gives a nervous grin. “N-nothing. Your friends are very…protective of you.”

The elf purses his lips at the death knight as he starts eating. “Knock it off, Koltira.”

The man laughs and returns the knife to the tray. He wraps an arm around Anarchaia. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, Eophen.”

Eophen gives another nervous heh before taking a small link of sausage and stuffing it into a cheek to busy himself.


	50. Chapter 50

Docra looks up as the mage appears on her couch, her hands bound together. “I take it things didn’t go well. Your friends left without you, too.”

Kel’ori whimpers. “They called in a healer to kill my baby. But something happened.”

“Yes. It fought back. You should hurry before they get too far ahead of you.” The priestess unties her and holds outa handkerchief for her eyes and nose.

Too rushed to acknowledge the priestess, Kel’ori digs through her pack and grabs her hearthstone. “Bye Docra!” She concentrates and appears on the Vindicaar, then runs down to the mess hall. She grabs herself a meal, then sits with the others, still wiping at her tears. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Kel’ori,” Anarchaia says, somewhat surprised. “You’re…coming with?”

Grimory shifts uncomfortably, then stands to go fill an empty waterskin at the food line.

The blond mage furrows her brow. “I… Why wouldn’t I be? I have my assignment, same as you.” She purses her lips at Alisbeth. “Don’t even think about touching me.”

The death knight scowls. “You’ll just blow me up again.”

“What?”

Taveth pats her shoulder. “She’s probably fine to come with us. We can always ask Thal for advice?”

Anarchaia shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt? …I think?”

The older mage scowls. “I’ll just stay back and out of the way, then. Be sure to tell Khadgar that _I’m_ not the one trying to fail our team assignment.” She scoots away from the others and starts in on her meal.

She cringes at the mention of her teacher and sighs. “Y-yeah, okay. You can come, but you have to be careful. Though I’ve already turned in all the work I’d promised to…”

Taveth chuckles nervously. “I don’t think it’s up to you if she comes or not, is it?”

“It’s _not_,” Kel’ori snaps in a low voice.

“It’s not,” Anarchaia echoes. “But if she doesn’t, I’ll fail—”

Koltira lets out a long breath. “Now that we’re all here and _behaving ourselves_,” he stares pointedly at the three women, “I think we can get going. After your breakfast, of course.”

Anarchaia purses her lips at Koltira. “Behaving. Right.” She stands. “Let’s go. Pack up the rest of your breakfast and save it for rations.”

Alisbeth snaps to attention. “I’m behaving!”

Eophen chuckles anxiously and does as he’s told, leaving Taveth with the majority of the tray. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Why are you coming with us?” Alisbeth asks the draenei. “What did I miss? Are we just collecting people, now? Do I get to bring a buddy?” She directs her gaze to each of the others in turn.

Taveth purses his lips. “He’s a capable fighter. And he knows the technology scattered around the planet.”

“Plus, now that Gil is gone, he can assist with healing a bit,” Anarchaia says as she goes over her logs. Once up on the main deck, she lifts a hand and a swirling portal back to Mac’aree opens. “Did you have a buddy in mind you wanted to bring along?”

Kel’ori grumbles, taking her sweet time packing up her food. When she does, she falls in line with the others.

Eophen blinks down at the woman. “Do you not want me to come along? I can remain here if you would like.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I don’t have buddies.” She sticks her nose in the air and stomps through the portal. The death knight blinks and looks around. “Uhh… Africa! You sent us to the wrong place!” she shouts at no one.

Taveth shrugs and urges the draenei forward. “Really, just best to ignore her sometimes.”

Kel’ori steps to the other side and waits, chewing on bacon she’d packed for the road.

Koltira waits patiently with Anarchaia, then takes her around the waist to follow behind the last of the party.

Grimory elbows Alisbeth and gives a smile. ::I’m not your buddy?::

Alisbeth makes a face. “You’re already here. And you’re a little more than a buddy, don’t you think?” She scrunches her face in a grin and takes a horn in her hand as they walk. “Wasn’t I suppose to talk to Illijerk for you? Missed our chance. Too bad. So sad.”

Grimory narrows the eye on the side of the same horn. ::He wasn’t on the Vindicaar like I expected him to be. Must still be recovering from the whole ordeal.:: He shrugs a shoulder. ::Maybe it’s better be thinks I’m d—err…AWOL.::

Alisbeth purses her lips. “That means we can just run away after this, right?”

“Okay,” Anarchaia starts, a small smile beneath her mask. “When I got to the Vindicaar I was told Turalyon would give us directions at the—”

“Champions!” The High Exarch hurries over to them, flustered. “I’m glad you’ve returned! We have a problem. The Legion has come to Mac’Aree. When you claimed the Sigil it was as if we announced our presence to all of Argus. The eyes of Antorus are firmly upon us.

"Just wait. It gets worse,” he says when the smaller mage opens her mouth to interject. “Velen took Captain Fareeya and her forces into the Arinor Gardens area to search for the Crest of Knowledge. To my knowledge, they are all now behind enemy lines. Come with me to the Conservatory. We need to bring Velen and the others back before it’s too late.”

Anarchaia blinks, then inhales to talk again.

“Yes, at once High Exarch,” Eophen responds dutifully. “Lead and we shall follow.”

Koltira chuckles at the mage. “What were you trying to say?”

Anarchaia pouts, arms folded. “Oh, nothing.” She walks along at the back moodily.

Koltira wiggles his fingers against the mage’s ribs to tickle her. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I was _going_ to offer to open a portal,” Anarchaia growls after a short burst of uncontrollable laughter, holding her side to avoid more tickles.

Eophen beams down at the High Exarch. “We restored the Conservatory not long ago. The path there should be relatively safe.”

Turalyon nods. “And you have my thanks. You all have done well so far. I’m sorry to have you walk such a distance on such short notice.”

Taveth follows behind at a small distance, sketching out Turalyon for the second time. By the time they reach the small eredari home, he nods and closes his book on the drawing.

The group enters the building and head to the back where Velen kneels over a child’s cradle, a small teddy bear nestled within.

“Forgive me, my son,” he says.

“Are you hurt?" Turalyon asks urgently.

“I am unharmed,” the Prophet says, standing. “Your arrival is timely.” He looks to each of them, directing slight nods to Eophen and Taveth. “We must find the Crest of Knowledge before Talgath takes it beyond our reach.”

Taveth narrows his eyes and opens to a clean page in his book to furiously write out any information Velen might give.

Turalyon scowls and lets out a small growl. “So he _is_ here, then. I was afraid of this.” He turns to the others. “I will take command of Fareeya’s forces and we will escort Velen to the Crest of Knowledge. His mission must not fail. Talgath’s forces are numerous in the area. Please, find out how he is bringing them here and cut them off. All we need is time to get in and get out.”

“Easy enough,” Koltira says with a shrug.

Alisbeth raises her hand and bounces on the balls of her feet. When Turalyon blinks at her, she grins. “Will I get to kill things?”

He chuckles. “Preferably, yes.”

The death knight hisses a quick _yes! _and brings her fist down in excitement. “I’m gonna kill it _all!_” She turns and sprints for the door.

Turalyon blinks after her, then shakes his head and nods to the others. “We’re counting on you. Good luck.”

Grimory gives a silent chuckle and follows Alisbeth out the door. _Guess Lord Illidan will have to wait_.

Eophen nods and follows as well, hammer hefted over his shoulder but an anxiety hidden in his eyes. “Talgath is…not one to be trifled with.”

“Do you want to open a portal to the entrance?” Koltira asks, a sly grin on his face.

She folds her arms tighter and hums in thought. “Mmmno. No I don’t.”

Once outside and around back of the house, Taveth stops to sketch and observe the scenery. He notices three large devices spaced evenly across the cliffside. “You don’t suppose…”

“Well, only one way to fi—”

“_I’m gonna break em!_” Alisbeth shouts over Koltira and runs forward. She engages the nearby eradari, shoving some away from herself and throwing one straight into the machine. “It didn’t work!” she shouts as the demon climbs out and leaps at her.

“Looks like a job for an engineer?” Taveth says to the tall draenei beside him.

Eophen nods and jogs ahead—stopping short of the emerald flames Grimory uses to knock the demon out of the air before it can reach Alisbeth—and drops his hammer to open the back panel of the construct. He pulls out the main circuitry and simply takes one of the chips from it. He leaves it hanging and does the same with the other two along their path, making sure to stay out of the way when his comrades defend him from encroaching demons.

Once the portals are all taken down, the party heads for the stairs wrapping around the sides of the raised dais. They reach the top of the stairs, where lightforged crouch behind a shimmering shield of Light.

“Come through!” one shouts as a demon runs screeching up the stairs behind them.

When their path is adequately carved, the draenei in their group runs forward to meet the Prophet. “Their forces have been diminished, Prophet.”

Alisbeth grits her teeth as the shield causes a quick bite of pain through her legs.

Koltira grits his teeth and reaches over to pull the mage up into his arms so the Light doesn’t touch her.

Anarchaia wraps an arm about the elf’s shoulders and hugs his bowed head with the other. “Thank you,” she says quietly into his ear.

Kel’ori shoves to the side of the stairs and covers her head as the vile fiend bounds to her. It passes and instead throws itself upon the shield, which causes it to shriek, before falling to the ground, dead. The mage swallows and looks down at her round belly.

“I…can’t go through,” she says as Eophen rushes over to speak with Velen.

Koltira gnashes his teeth together and walks back through the golden Light. He lifts her as he’d done Anarchaia, and carries her over, grunting at the pain stabbing through his lower body. He sets her down, then falls to a knee until the pain subsides.

Velen nods to the Lightforged, his gaze still fixed on a statue at the back of the platform. He waits until the others have caught up, then takes a heavy breath. “Thousands of years ago, when I was young, I made a choice… A choice that allowed my world to fall to ruin. A choice that made my people exiles… A choice…that forever separated me from my beloved brothers.” He sighs and closes his eyes as he remembers a moment from long ago. “I had hoped the others would see the darkness behind Sargeras’s words. But they were blinded by their vanity…their hunger for power. The ata’mal crystal soon showed me the horrible truth of what would come to pass if we accepted the titan’s offer.” He shakes his head mournfully. “We would be transformed not into wise leaders, but into hateful monsters.”

The others remain solemn as they listen to the prophet’s words. A portal opens near the edge of the platform and a great eredari steps out of it. He stands, as though waiting for something, as he fixes his hateful gaze on Velen.

The Prophet takes a breath and turns from the statue to glare out at the demon. “Talgath. There was a time I called him and ally. A friend. I put my trust in him…and gave him all that he needed to betray me and slaughter my followers. I do not know what brought this hatred to lurk in his heart, but his machinations repeatedly forced my people to flee world after world as he hunted us across the universe. This must end.” He sets his sights on each of the party in turn. “Talgath must die.”

“How unlike you, Velen, to stand your ground,” Talgath growls, a hint of amusement in his voice. “A welcome change of pace, to be certain.”

Valen purses his lips. “Talgath, we need not come to blows. I offer you one chance… Stand down!”

“More chances than I’d give him,” Koltira mutters.

“Still the pacifist, I see. Face me!”

Alisbeth unsheathes the Maw and grins. “Well, since you asked so nicely!” She runs forward to engage the eredari.

Both Eophen and Grimory nod at one another before following Alisbeth into battle.

Talgath gives a small chuckle at the incoming party. He swings one of his two blades at them, narrowly missing the death knight and Illidari, but ending against Eophen’s hammer, causing sparks to fly.

Anarchaia throws a shower of arcane projectiles over their target, making him hiss in pain and annoyance but he otherwise remains unwavering.

The demon sneers and leans back before kicking the draenei before him clear across the area. Eophen grunts as his armor screeches across the stone. Taveth rushes to the draenei’s side. “Are you okay?”

Tryxora pops out of thin air and immediately slaps her rear to control herself. “Don’t worry, master. I’ve got this.” She runs toward Talgath, unrolling her whip as she goes.

The high elf ignores her and instead busies himself with checking the man for injuries.

The death knights work together with Grimory to keep the demon otherwise occupied so the others remain out of harm’s way.

Eophen sets a hand on Taveth’s shoulder and gives him a smile. “I am fine.” He sits up and spreads a palm over his own chest. A bright light flashes and he returns to his feet. “Good as new.” He gives Taveth one last grin and runs to join the fight again, scooping his hammer up along the way.

Grimory brings up a defensive claw when a blade comes at him, but blinks when it’s stopped by the heavy end of Eophen’s hammer. He nods and slashes at Talgath’s knee while it is open for attack. The demon groans in pain and is forced to kneel, leaving him vulnerable to the rest

Talgath knocks the elves and draenei away from himself, then brings up a fel green barrier. “We will finish this another ti—”

“No,” Velen growls as he locks the demon in chains of Light that hold him to the ground. “This ends now. This is your end. If there is a shred of goodness left in you, you will help us find the Crest of Knowledge.”

Talgath says nothing, but glares down at the prophet. He sneers, then spits at the man’s feet.

Velen sighs. “I see. Safe journey, Talgath.”

A pillar of light shoots down from the sky onto the eredari. “Der’ek…manul…” he grunts as he falls to the ground, dead.

Velen blinks at the corpse. “Talgath’s words carry more gravity than I think he knew. In an attempt to hurt me one final time, he has given us the answer. The Crest is hidden away in the Seat of the Triumvirate…” He turns his gaze to the ruins of a grand building behind him. “And it is not unguarded. If my suspicions are correct, we may be facing a greater threat than any of us dared imagine: a dark naaru.” He nods to the others gathered around him. “Let us plan our next steps from the Vindicaar.” He nods to a lightforged mage, who opens a swirling portal to the ship.

Alisbeth frowns. “I’ve seen a dark naaru before. I…helped make it dark. They’re not easy to kill once warped to the void.” She casts her gaze to Grimory and grins. “This is gonna be so much fun!” She leaps through the portal back to the Vindicaar.

Grimory’s eyes widen beneath a furrowed brow as he watches her go. He casts a concerned glance to the others before following through.

Anarchaia chews on her lower lip in thought while watching the draenei and Nighthearts follow as well. “This sounds really dangerous,” she mutters to no one in particular, her quill scratching away beside her. “Naaru control a small amount of time and space around them. Ones overtaken by void could—ah! W-wait for me!” She scurries through the portal and into Eophen. “S-sorry. Heh.”

“It is no worry.” He smiles down at her.

“I will commune here with Alleria while you lot get situated to return. But do not tarry. We will leave soon.” Velen nods to them.

Kel’ori’s stomach moans gently as the group follows Velen up the ramp toward Alleria. She lets out an awkward laugh. “I need something besides bacon, I guess. I’m sure you guys have this under control.”

Taveth shifts and mumbles, “Someone _did_ cut breakfast short…” He ducks his head to avoid backlash over his comment, and shuffles after his sister.

Alisbeth sneers at the mage. “Disgusting, filthy— Didn’t let my cousin eat!” She leaps at the undead, but Koltira moves into the way. “Nasty, nasty, monster!” she scrabbles to get around him, but he sidesteps each time, a bored expression on his face.

Grimory wraps a strong arm around Alisbeth’s waist and pulls her after the Nighthearts, the heels of her boots screeching against the metal floor.

Anarchaia scowls after the lot, squaring her shoulders after the terror of being lunged at subsides. “Well _excuse me_ for wanting to get all this over with!”

Eophen’s hooves lightly _tiptap_ as he catches up with Taveth and Kel’ori. “They do not get along well,” he says on a nervous chuckle. “Perhaps we should split into two groups?”

Alisbeth goes limp and frowns up at the draenei. “Arugula is my friend. What are you talking about?”

Taveth purses his lips as he’s forced to hold both his and his sister’s trays while she loads both of them with foods. “I won’t be eating all this,” he says.

“But _I_ will! Seriously, this little devil just wants more every day, I swear.”

He bites his tongue against the words rising to the surface; ones he’s sure she’s heard from their eldest brother and their father.

Eophen furrows his brow down at her as they reach the table. “But you lunged at her with malicious intent?”

Grimory shakes his head at the draenei and sets Alisbeth in her seat. ::Stay here a moment, yeah? I gotta go talk with Lord Illidan.::

Alisbeth waves off the accusation. “I was _teasing_, she knows that. We’re _great_ friends.”

The Nighthearts make it back to the table, Taveth carefully balancing the trays. “Decided to join us?” He smiles up at the draenei.

“Gimme.” Kel’ori takes her tray and sets it down, then seats herself and digs in. “Now you can make googly-eyes at your new boyfriend,” she mumbles through her food.

Taveth’s face flushes to a dark red and he shyly forces himself to sit at the table. “I-I have t-to update m-my journal, actually. Heh.” He retrieves said item and immediately buries himself in it.

Eophen gives an uncomfortable titter and sits across from the elf. He opens his mouth, but turns toward the doorway before any words come forth.

Uulora sets a hand on her brother’s shoulder. <<Father’s been asking a lot of questions. Not sure how much longer I can hold up.>>

Eophen frowns and sets his hand over hers as he stands. “I…may return,” he says to the elves and gives a strained smile before following his sister back into the hallway.

Taveth looks up just in time to give a small, nervous wave to the draenei’s back. He sighs and returns to his book. Once he finishes a drawing of a regular naaru, but filled in with ink, he turns the page to see elegant, urgent handwriting he recognizes as Anduin’s.

_Do NOT continue with this mission! It is much too dangerous for <strike>my</strike> a scribe. Inform Velen I will send good soldiers to aid in the fight. Take care, Mr. Nightheart._

The elf blinks down at the message, smiling some at the scribbled out ‘my’. “I guess my work here is done.” He closes his journal and directs his attention to his meal.

“What?” Kel’ori asks.

“I’ve been ordered not to return to Argus, because of the dark naaru.”

She scoffs. “Lucky.”

Alisbeth scrutinizes her cousin. “How’d you get the orders?”

“In my book…”

Her eyes narrow further.

~ * ~

Grimory finds Illidan near the controls in a quiet chamber below decks. The demon lord sneers. “Silversong. I’d heard. It’s amazing you still breathe.”

The Illidari shrinks some at the attitude he’s given, but squares his shoulders all the same. ::I’m ready to—::

“And now you’re mute. The surprises continue.” He shakes his horned head. “Don’t worry about the Seat. I’ve appointed someone else for the mission. In fact, he’s been doing all your work since you were torn to shreds.”

Grimory furrows his brow, his face twisting in an incredulous scowl. ::Who?!::

“Oh! Hey, Grim!” a familiar voice says. Asheeda pats the other demon hunter on the back. “Good to see you up and about. His expression grows somber as he turns and bends at the waste to Illidan. “Lord Illidan. I hope—”

“I thought I sent for Asheeda,” Illidan says.

The elf stares wide-eyed at nothing, then composes himself. “I’m Asheeda…sir.”

“No. The girl… The alchemist. Fought the shivarra for her trial.”

“And used custom-made potions to melt my eyes, yes,” he says quickly.

Illidan stares in silence for several seconds, then shrugs. “If you think this is an improvement…”

Asheeda grits his teeth at the thinly veiled insult. “If you don’t mind, my friend would like to accompany me. She’s more than capable, I assure you.”

A disembodied laughter sounds behind Grimory before a finger jams into his new scars. Crorinu fades into view, a smirk tweaking her lips. “I was going to give you my standard greeting…but it looks like someone beat me to the punch. A lot.” She pats him on the rear and goes to the wall to pick dirt from under her nails with a dagger. “Trust me, Lord Illidan, I know how to get a job done.”

::_You?!_:: Grimory grunts when his scars are prodded, but the noise comes only as a pained sigh. He turns to scowl at the rogue, then tenses and flushes as his backside is touched. He growls silently and turns back to Illidan. ::But I can perform! I’m capable! Just silent—::

“I’ll take your silence as an admission of incompetence,” Illidan growls through a smirk. “Go heal and return when you can speak again.” He snorts a laugh. “If you ever do.”

Asheeda laughs and pats Grimory again. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, my friend. Nu and I will handle things while you get better.”

The rogue smirks and makes a kiss in the air at him.

Grimory scowls at them both, then Illidan, and quietly scoffs before turning and taking his leave back to the mess hall.

~ * ~

Koltira lets out a long breath and takes the mage’s hand. “Let’s go hear what Velen and Alleria have to say. Right?”

Anarchaia balls her fists, then nods and wraps her fingers around his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He gives her hand a quick squeeze. “Everything is going to be fine, Ana. Oh, look, Khadgar is here…” His voice falls as his mood grows more sour than usual. “Khadgar. Nice to see you, I suppose. Don’t worry, everything is under control here,” he says in a forced tone.

“No, it isn’t,” Archmage Khadgar says simply as he turns toward the two. “Alleria’s informed me of the current state of affairs. You, Deathweaver, may proceed back to the surface, but Anarchaia is to stay away from Mac’aree until I say otherwise. Of course that includes Kel’ori.”

Anarchaia blinks and straightens. “Wh-what? Why?”

“You know that the Naaru themselves are nothing to fret over, but one twisted with void is incredibly dangerous. Not only do they exude shadow energies but they warp time around them. And I needn’t remind you of the last time—no pun intended—you were left unattended around chronomancy—”

“I know—”

“And _he’s_ not around to save you this time—”

“_I know!_” She pauses to collect herself. “I’m sorry. I-I just—… I want to help.”

“Help yourself to the portal home, then,” Khadgar says, his voice stern but his eyes gentle.

The smaller mage deflates before ultimately nodding.

Koltira clenches his jaw against the rude things he’d like to say to the Archmage. Instead he turns to the mage. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll go back to Acherus and request aid in the mission. I’m sure Mograine would be interested in this development, either way.” He kisses her cheek and bends to test if he can summon a death gate. He shrugs when he is successful. “I honestly didn’t think that would work.”

Anarchaia gives the death knight a sad smile, then blinks as the gate rises. “Everyone can summon portals through space except me, apparently,” she grumbles after she’s properly kissed him goodbye. “Be safe, please,” she says quietly, her smile gone.

Koltira returns some time later, a frown on his face. He finds Anarchaia and goes to her. “Okay, first of all, I felt like I was falling for thirty minutes. Both ways. I’m never doing that again. Second of all—” he nods to a group of death knights as they pass, “the Deathlord is handling this one.” He motions at a figure in black armor, headed for the bridge. “Thass says hi and goodbye, if he dies out there. He and Mograine were hand-picked. I guess I’ve not spent enough time around Acherus to be deemed ‘good enough’ for the mission.” He growls in his throat as his pride takes the hit.

Anarchaia watches them go, then casts a look to her partner as she wraps her arms around his torso. “I’ll be honest, I’m glad you aren’t going. I know that’s selfish of me…”

The death knight purses his lips. “It is selfish. But I suppose I can forgive you for it.”

Anarchaia frowns up at him. “Well if not at least forgive me for not wanting to see you die… Again.” She blinks as Grimory moodily passes. “Everything all right, Grim?”

The Illidari, lost in his anger, ignores her and continues back to his seat beside Alisbeth.

The death knight frowns at the demon hunter. “What’s wrong? Oh, before you tell me, Taveth has a magic book that told him not to go back to the surface, so I guess the nerd is out.” She gives her cousin a playful wink. “So what’s got your panties in a wad?” She grins and pokes at him, trying to make him lighten up.

Grimory ignores the poking, glaring into the ether. ::I’m not going back, either. Lord Illidan put someone else on the assignment. Said I was incompetent.:: His fists clench ever so slightly on the tabletop. ::But whatever.::

Alisbeth shoots to her feet. “That asshole! I told you he’s a jerk. I’m gonna go give him a piece of my mind.” She stomps off to find the demon hunter lord.

Koltira leads Anarchaia to the others, leaning back as the other death knight stomps past. “We’ve been ordered away,” he announces.

Taveth nods. “As have I.”

Grimory’s eyes widen and he also jumps to his feet as Alisbeth trudges away. ::Ali, no!:: He grabs her by the arm when he catches up. ::Please. Just let it go, yeah? It’s not that big a deal.::

Anarchaia hums as she taps her chin. “I suppose this gives me time to compile my notes into a compendium.” She frowns. “Though, I’m kind of upset we don’t get to help. Who told you you’re off the case?” she asks Taveth as she sits beside him, leaning close and smirking. “Mr. Mystery?”

Taveth nods, blushing just slightly. “A dark naaru is not something a scholar should be trifling with. Someone is being sent in my stead. I’ll be informing Velen after I’m done eating, then we can go back to Azeroth.”

“Who’s being sent?” Kel’ori prods.

“Someone more equipped for the job, I presume.”

Anarchaia lifts a brow. “A scholar more well equipped than you?” She leans away again. “Can’t picture it.” She sighs quietly. “Maybe this is all for the best.”

Taveth shakes his head. “The time for research has passed. He’s sending…fighters, I suppose. I should go tell Velen to expect them. I’ll, um, see you later?”

Anarchaia blinks and watches him as he goes. “Uh…yeah. Give him our apologies, please. And let him know that if there’s _anything_ he needs from us…”

Taveth nods and gives a small wave. “I’ll see you back in Dalaran.”

Koltira nods and heads for the portal.

Kel’ori jumps to her feet as she finishes her meal. “Wait for me!” She points up at her brother. “Say goodbye to Eophen for me.”

~ * ~

Alisbeth frowns and looks up into his eyes. “But you’re not incompetent.”

Grimory’s features soften and he sighs before running a hand through his hair. ::No. I am. But that’s okay.::

Alisbeth punches him in the pectoral. “No you’re not.” A grin suddenly spreads across her lips. “We can go do whatever we want, now!”

Grimory thinks for a moment before returning the smile. ::Yeah. We can. Let’s go spend more time with Diori, yeah? And…other things, of course.::

Alisbeth squeals at the prospects and grabs his hand, dragging him to the Dalaran portal.


End file.
